


Beware of Gods Bearing Gifts

by cuttlemefish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Gods realm is very modern, Hades Yuuri Katsuki, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Light BDSM, Loosely Inspired Dumpster Fire, M/M, Persephone Viktor Nikiforov, Unconventional courtship, Vicchan Lives, deceptively confident yuuri katsuki, mortal realm is stuck in ancient greek times, still anxious yuuri katsuki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttlemefish/pseuds/cuttlemefish
Summary: Born with two names, Viktor is branded by his mother Lilia, the Goddess of Seasons, with a cryptic message that glows blue on his wrist and reads, "Beware of Gods Bearing Gifts," as a reminder to her son of the life he must lead in purity and the choices the Fates have divined for him. Yet, Viktor is bored of a life in isolation fulfilling his role as the God of Growing Things and yearns to understand the secret of the name that follows him like shadow and whispers: Persephone. Meanwhile, Lord of the Underworld Yuuri has been blackmailed by the God of Love Christophe to fashion a plan to keep Viktor away from Olympus and his beloved Hermes. In an accident of destiny, both discover they have more in common than either could have expected as they enter into an unconventional courtship that may upset the balance of the natural order, unless they find love at the juncture of life and death. Or, the loosely inspired Hades and Persephone AU with magical undertones and light BDSM elements.





	1. Parts I-II

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fam! Please, please read before continuing: Due to a small cast, please don't expect strict adherence to actual Greek mythology. This is a dumpster fire. It's for fun. I take no responsibility for anything other than my very intentional butchering of a myth (do ya'll see the words intentional and butchering? I'm aware it's not like the myth; so you don't need to go off in comments, okay? :D). To make that even more clear: I get some of you may be, like, serious Greek mythology buffs, but for my anxiety and peace of mind (and because there's always at least one jerk in the comments that ruins it for everyone else) just keep it to yourself. <3 Thanks!

****

**Part I**

_Beware_

Viktor is born with two names, both so radically different from each other that he can’t understand why he bears them both: _Kore_ , his mother calls him sweetly and lovingly, as if worshipping the weight of the word’s meaning on her tongue. _Pure_ , she says and assumes that must be his fate. It seems to please her from the moment she first gives birth. The name shines brightly in the glow of his skin.

When he’s born, he glows with a translucent, blinding white light that makes his hair look like spun silver and his eyes like the lakes under the shimmer of the sun. Even the titan Helios smiles and says his name, and the grass grows taller when his lashes fan in sleep. _Kore_ , his mother whispers to him as she rocks him against her bosom, and he laughs, face as gentle and beautiful as a Spring rose—and all around the flowers blossom at the ring of his mirth. As he grows, he continues to be a happy child with love drawn on his cupid-bow lips. _Kore_ , everyone says when they see him. And so, he assumes, must be his fate. 

Everyone ignores the other name, the one that follows him like a grey rain cloud on a Spring day. It’s the name that drags itself on the floor, as if clamoring to become dig deep and become one with the soil and, maybe, whatever lies below. Sometimes he tugs at it to look more closely. He can’t make sense of it. No one has ever said it, but he knows it lies waiting and patient. This is his shadow – an odd occurrence as Olympus Gods do not have shadows. That is left for the Underworld, someone whispers, and Viktor wonders _where_ that might be. 

The first time anyone says his other name, he’s five and hiding behind his mother’s legs.

The Fates welcome him and say: _Persephone_ – bringer of death.

Lilia sends him to a corner to play, and he rolls a rock under his finger as his mother listens morosely to the Fates. His shadow dances circles on the ground, as if enjoying the freedom of being named for the first time. _Bringer of death,_ he repeats in his head. That does not sound like _Kore._ But he forgets by the time his mother returns. She grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to his feet, and his shadow grows somber again, coiling and dragging on the ground like a snake. 

“Beware of Gods bearing gifts, little one,” she tells him, face stoic and cold. Viktor doesn’t understand why he should ever worry about someone bringing a gift. Offerings are life for the Gods. He had always assumed gifts were good, especially from humans. Shouldn’t they be all the better coming from another of his kind? He has no time to ask. When she next drops his wrist, he finds that the same words in blue ink now line his wrist. 

Shortly after, Lilia takes Viktor from Olympus and brings him down to the mortal world, and together they make their home in the forest with only the flower and water nymphs for comfort. Each night, Lilia combs Viktor’s hair and nimbly fashions it into a braid that rests long and heavy against his shoulders. Before she tucks him to sleep among a nest of nymphs, she whispers again: “Beware of Gods bearing gifts, Vitya. To trust them would be your ruin. If anyone approaches, you must come find me at once, do you hear?” – and with a kiss pressed against his forehead, he is allowed leave to rest.

But each night, it’s the same.

Viktor hears the same words: _Beware of Gods bearing gifts_.

And he doesn't understand them. 

.

He tries to remember when he is fourteen. 

“What does it mean, the word Persephone?” he asks a nymph one day. His shadow perks up again. 

“Perhaps it means blue!” she responds, tucking flowers into his hair. His shadow coils into itself, almost as if embarrassed. “It is such a sad looking thing, isn’t it?”

Viktor hums in acknowledgement, feeling the same strange, heavy feeling settle on his stomach. Recently, he’s been feeling it more and more, like a weight on his smile. But Viktor is still the God of Growing Things, and there is much in the mortal world that requires his attention—or gets it by default of his power. Under his gentle touch, flowers bloom and fruits engorge. The sweetness of an apple is all the richer after his kiss. When he rests under the shade of a tree, he can feel the roots growing thicker and longer beneath the earth, as if they clamor to wrap themselves around him. 

“I’ve been thinking of moving to the cities of Olympus,” he says, and hears splashes behind him. Bursts of water slap against the surface of the river as familiar figures appear with the same of water crashing against rocks, and the nymphs that have watched over him since he was small swim to the edge of the riverbank and gasp. “It’d be good for me. The city.”

“But it is not safe,” one reminds him.

Another one nods: “Too many Gods up there.”

“Beware of all Gods, Vitya,” a third chimes in, playing with the ends of his tunic. “You know what your mother said: Beware for they are not to be trusted. Beware of Gods bearing gifts.”

**Part II**

_Gods_

The rumors that sprout like weeds over the grounds of Olympus spiral with the speed at which Lilia, Goddess of Seasons and the Harvest, pummels the mortal grounds with her scythe, burning everything in her path with the pain of losing her child to parts unknown. It’s quite medieval, given that she could have easily used any of the technology now available to the immortals—but Lilia had always been one for tradition (and the zealous protection of her son).

For the record: Viktor, God of Growing Things (rumored to hold the beauty of Spring on his face), was not abducted while playing with water nymphs, as is reported by The Daily Kronos. He was not swallowed by the earth while attempting to pull another flower for his hair. The God of the Underworld did not come galloping through the ground to grab him by the waist and pull him into the netherworld by force (because, again, that would have been medieval and horrifying). In fact, there was no force involved other than gravity, as Viktor merely wandered the forest in search of sweet flowers for his tea and, having grown too accustomed to the pleasures of the Olympian cities, tripped on a branch right into a rabbit hole that sent him sliding down, down, down into the arms of the God of the Underworld, Yuuri.

None of that is to be interpreted as an accident.

Yuuri had to have known Viktor would fall to wait for him so patiently, after all. And, such is the way of the Gods to expect the unexpected with all-knowing clarity even while wandering into the darkness with a blindfold. 

. 

In actuality, Christophe, God of Love, Lust, and Beauty, had been having a hellish week, as his boyfriend Hermes, the messenger, had become wholly intoxicated by the fragrant Spring essence of the God of Growing Things, whose mother had already made clear her edict that no one was to court her precious, maiden child (who, rumors told, was not so _maiden_ , after all). The idea that Hermes might be enthralled by anything other than him—as should be the order of all things—was enough to send Christophe mad with jealous rage, never mind that he might have a husband already and no claim over Hermes’ full attentions. But the arrangement had between Christophe and his many lovers was for the God of Love to reign over with aplomb—and for anyone else to suffer for the indiscretion of judgement. 

“And what brings the God of Love to the Underworld?” Yuuri asks, sitting on a throne of marble and bone. His tone is lazy, almost amused, as his eyes study his visitor. Despite his features, Yuuri is old, vey old. Even Christophe knows better than to slight the lord of a realm, especially one as powerful as the Underground.

“The promise of finally cashing in a favor,” Christophe replies, green eyes flashing like emeralds in the darkness of Yuuri’s palace. “You do remember that you owe me a favor, m’lord?”

Intrigued, Yuuri leans forward, “It has been centuries, Christophe. What brings you to request a favor now?”

And Christophe simply grins, fingers splayed together as he says, “Only the innocent and very wholesome desire of a friend to secure the happiness of another friend, m’lord. As the God of Love, you must know it has not been missed by me that you have yet to take a consort—as we both know quite intimately, due to your very particular proclivities. I would like to offer but some advice.”

“And how is this a favor to you and not me?” Yuuri purses his lips, “You speak in riddles, Aphrodite. Riddles do not do well here. They confuse the dead.”

“You honor me by using my name, m’lord,” Christophe tilts his head, his neck long and elegant, “What kindness you brandish upon me by worshipping me—”

Yuuri raises his palm in annoyance, “I forgot that you speak too much.”

“Hence the gag,” Christophe reminds him, “that you used on me. When you asked for a favor from me. Or have you forgotten, m’lord?”

Yuuri breathes slowly through his nose, cheeks not even coloring as he holds Christophe’s gaze, “What is it you want?”

“Only to help a friend, m’lord. Have you heard of Lilia’s edict?”

Yuuri hums, disinterested as his eyes flicker back to some vacant corner, “that her son Viktor is not to be courted or wed to any of the Gods of Olympus? I was informed as much from Yakov himself. She twisted his arm into supporting her decision, and I hear the God of Thunder and the Skies has been equally meticulous in insuring his child is kept at arm’s length from any of the other Gods of the Sky. But, what has that to do with me? You should know by now that the particularities of Olympus do not interest me.”

“Then you must have heard that the God of Growing Things has himself grown into quite a beauty,” Christophe hums. “He has attracted the attention of many a suitor, despite Lilia’s warnings, particularly my Hermes.”

“Ah, so I see petty jealousies are what have brought you to my realm,” Yuuri sighs. “I still fail to see what your insecurities have to do with me.”

“Well, it has not been missed on me that you have not taken a spouse, Yuuri. And if young Viktor was to be wed, then Hermes’ attentions would return where they naturally belong—with me.”

“Am I the friend you seek to help at the ruin of another? I have no need for a spouse. Why should I take one now when my kingdom has grown so well without one?”

“Because you owe me a favor and that is what I ask of you. Besides, it would not such a burden. I think you will find that Viktor is of a curious nature and, given his untouched status, may be easily trained to meet your peculiar tastes.”

Yuuri dismisses him with a wave, “I have no patience for a virgin. Besides, the edict is quite clear, and I have no patience for negotiations either.”

“That no Gods of Olympus may court young Viktor, yes,” Christophe waves him off, “But you are not a God of Olympus, Yuuri, and Yakov himself has given permission, given the loophole.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I am the God of Love. And a father is a father, even with Yakov’s short attention span. In fact, because of the latter, he’s equally tired of having to look after Viktor so much and the distractions he causes. If you can get him to willingly speak the rites of marriage, he is yours to keep. Or so I was informed.”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, “Yakov is offering me his son?”

“Offering is too common a term,” Chris shrugs, “if you ask me, this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Yakov’s current feelings towards Lilia, but having one of Yakov’s favorite children on your side bodes well for any future interactions you may have with the realm above.”

“I’ve no need for negotiation,” Yuuri grins, teeth white and gleaming in the dark, “You forget that—at the end—everything dies and ultimately belongs to me. There is nothing that I want I do not eventually keep.”

“Perhaps,” Christophe reminds him, “but one thing you have not kept, King of the Underworld, are your own secrets, not very well at least. And if your proclivities to remain only a parlor rumor, then you will do this one thing for me. The choice is yours.”

. 

Yuuri, by definition of not being a God of Olympus, is impertinent at best and quiet and moody at his worst. It comes with having no one to entertain and the isolation of his position. _This_ is a treat, but it does very little to lift his mood. After all, it’s not like Yuuri had—out of his own volition—invited Viktor here. This is a favor, completed through blackmail on the part of the God of Love, to keep Viktor somewhere that would not inconvenience Christophe and his constant need for worship.

He sighs as he debates the merits of finding another traditional tunic for Viktor to wear or choosing something more modern and similar to what Viktor might wear in Olympus. According to Christophe, in the last decade, Viktor had chosen—despite his mother’s protests—to move to Olympus, where he had quickly become popular enough to rival Christophe’s charms. Hence their predicament.

Yuuri wouldn’t bother overthinking the matter, except that the fall from aboveground had tattered to practically threads the tunic Viktor had been wearing during his excursion above. _It wouldn’t do to simply let him wander around here naked,_ Yuuri reminds himself. _Pity._

Although he had previously heard many rumors about the beauty of Lilia’s son, he had never been one to pay much attention to the on-goings of the Gods’ aboveground. It’s a pity, really, even if completely logical. Viktor is the God of Growing Things, the very definition of living, and Yuuri is overlord of the things that are dead. Based on the natural order of things, Viktor should _not_ be in Yuuri’s bed. He should be aboveground, fingers eagerly weaving together flower crowns, much with the same ease he breathes and becomes a small desire for the human mind (and perhaps the immortal mind, too). Watching him now, delicate hair cascading over Yuuri’s pillows, feels like owning something forbidden. It lights something aflame inside Yuuri, again.

“Hungry,” Viktor groans, which is odd, seeing as Gods have no need for food. He turns in slumber, hair a curtain over his face, and Yuuri gives into the temptation to brush the silky strands back, and for the first time his eyes fall on the shadow coiled around Viktor’s wrist.

“Away with you,” he orders the shadow, which stubbornly sticks in place. Yuuri furrows his brows, leaning down closer to poke it, “I command you.”

Unrelenting, the shadow seems to challenge him and stays rooted in place. But, when Viktor shifts and his hand moves to rest against his soft, glowing cheek, the shadow sulks away to hide between tresses of platinum blond hair. _Beware of Gods bearing gifts_ , Yuuri reads for the first time, the words sprawled in Lilia’s handwriting over Viktor’s wrist. The delicate skin there doesn’t seem to mind the brand, which now presses against perfect, pink cupid-bowed lips. 

“Trust me, you will not want to eat the food here,” Yuuri explains softly as he walks towards the other end of the room. “I’ll leave you to your rest.”

.

Viktor wakes up to darkness. There is an uncomfortable slate of stone beneath his body, with only a few velvet pillows for his head. The room is disorienting in its unperturbed silence and lack of light, and Viktor realizes immediately that he is neither in the forest nor his mother’s palace. The realization sends him stumbling and tangling to the ground, and he hisses when his body hits even harder stone. It feels cool against his cheek and he lets his fingers dig into the ground to hoist himself up.

 _Where am I?_ he thinks, disoriented and drunk from the darkness. He discovers then that he cannot see himself; his usual glow has dampened to dim and darkness, as if a thin dark gauze has settled over him. His body feels heavy, like lead. When he presses his palms on the ground to sense the pulse of the Earth beneath, he feels nothing but cold dampness. _My powers do not work here,_ Viktor thinks, clenching his hands into fists. He squeaks when he hears the sound of something moving, like an entire wall breaking, and he doubles into a ball. He can feel his shadow wrapping around his ankle: _Persephone_ , it whispers.

“Who goes there?” he cries, eyes shut tightly. “Show yourself.”

Something soft, definitely a hand, rests on his arm and slides down, all the way to his wrist where his pulse meets his mother’s handwriting: “Should I help you stand?”

“I cannot see you. Where am I?”

“Well, perhaps if you opened your eyes, you might see me,” a voice, smooth and amused responds with something akin to boredom. It’s like tasting bitter coffee. “Will you not open your eyes, Kore?”

“If you seek to worship me, then turn on a light. The darkness is too blinding,” Viktor whispers, voice shaking. “My skin has lost its glow. I cannot see and it is frightening.”

“I assure you that your skin looks much the same to me. Perhaps only a bit dimmer, but it is likely because the shadows much like the light and are clinging to you out of curiosity. They will tire soon enough.”

“My fear amuses you?” Viktor worries at his bottom lip. “I don’t know where I am, who speaks to me, or how I have come to be here.”

“It’s not a secret or a riddle. You are certainly not home. And you are not under water. By some simple arithmetic, you can deduct that two out of three realms are not your present location and come to a simple conclusion.”

 _I’m in the realm of Hades_ , Viktor thinks to himself, panicked.

“I am immortal. The rules of the natural order do not apply to me, but are applied _by_ me. I shouldn’t be here,” Viktor says, trying to maintain some bravado.

“Yet you are here. Why do you think?”

“I have told you that I do not know; what business could Hades possibly have with me?” his voice breaks as he speaks. “The Lord of the Underworld and I have never met. I have never spoken his name before today. What could I have done to inspire his ire? What could someone so powerful, the lord of a realm, want from someone like me?”

“A good question, indeed,” the voice responds, and Viktor finds himself alone on the ground again. He can hear the clicking sound of steps as they move away from him. Eventually, he feels the heat of light in the room. “What could _I_ possibly want from you, Kore?” – And Viktor gasps with the realization that his host is none other than the ruler of the Underworld.

When Viktor finally opens his eyes, he finds that Hades himself is sitting on a stone bench just a few feet away. Dark brown eyes study him carefully, just a glimmer in the corner of them betraying Hades’ amusement.

With a smirk, Hades responds, “Perhaps, your obedience?”

**TBC**


	2. Part III

**Part III**

_Bearing_

Despite living a regimented childhood, the concept of obedience is still wholly lost on Viktor as an adult. After all, his parents had never been _unkind_ , just strict—and, even then, that had been his mother _only_ when they were in the (known) presence of other Olympus Gods. Mortals seemed to pose no threat to his mother’s insecurities, and Viktor was given free reign to wander over as many nearby lands as he wanted, with caution that he conceals his appearance.

“Kore, where have you been?” the water nymphs creep close to the edge of the water, studying him carefully. They whisper in unison: “You look different.”

“And smell different,” the flower nymphs chant behind him. They touch his hair and his arms. “Oh Vitya, what have you done?”

“I have claimed what I wanted,” he says haughtily, ripping his arms away from their touch. He slips off his tunic and enters the water for a bath. None of the nymphs chastise him. They simply stare at each other for a beat before scrambling away. “Let’s see who will call me Kore now,” he sniffs.

A part of him feels empty now. At the time when he had taken that sailor to bed, or let himself be taken to bed, Viktor had assumed this was exactly what he wanted and needed. His enthusiasm had rivaled the heat in his lower belly, and he’d woken to a smitten mortal that had wanted to lay claim to his pleasure all over again. But the act itself had felt strangely underwhelming a second time, much like running up a hill only to find that there was more still to climb. Had his release not been so physically obvious, Viktor would have thought it hadn’t happened at all. He washes his stomach now. He takes time to comb his fingers through his hair. In his focus, he fails to notice that Hecate is lying underneath the shade of a nearby tree.

As the Goddess of Necromancy, Spirits, Dark, and Magic, Hecate lived in the realm of Hades year-round. Viktor had long been told that she had raised and groomed he Lord of the Underworld long before he’d ever taken the throne. Hecate was seldom seen outside of his realm. Viktor had been excited to meet someone from the Underworld. He’d long heard that they, too, had shadows, and he’d been eager to have her read his other name. (“Let Minako rest, Viktor,” his mother had chastised him, ushering him out of the room. “She has not come for such nonsense. Forgive him, Minako. Viktor has become quite obsessed recently with his shadow.” And Minako had simply narrowed her eyes and watched him walk away.) She’d only come to visit recently on an excursion to learn from Viktor’s mother more about special plants that might yet grow in the Underworld and serve some purpose to her work. Viktor’s mother had, naturally, monopolized her time—but, otherwise, hadn’t warned Viktor away from Minako, not like she tended to do with the others. Perhaps, then, Minako had no gifts for him.

She had taken to her studies leisurely, mostly enjoying the drinks of men and reading to her heart’s content under the warmth of the sun. 

“A mortal man cannot change your name, Kore,” Hecate explains as she flips through another page from her book. A bottle of sweet wine rests by her hip. “Only a God can do that—and, for that matter, I believe only _one_ God can do that, per the Fates. But your mother is a stubborn one.”

“Oh, Minako,” Viktor gasps, “you scared me. You won’t tell my mother, will you?”

“I already did. As I said, she is stubborn. Oh, you mean about your dalliances with the sons of men. That isn’t of my concern. Plenty of Gods and Goddesses have done the same through the years. It is but one of the cheapest gifts they think to give mankind. As I said when I arrived, I am here for the poisonous plants and the drink. What you do or do not is any of my concern, Kore.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, going back to his hair. After a beat of silence, he tries again, “When you say only a God can change my name, what do you mean exactly?”

“I think you know well what it means, Kore,” Hecate grins, setting her book over her lap. “If you think that man can satisfy your urges, you are in denial of your very nature. You are a God. Only another God can give you what you want; no man can satisfy you, ever. It is but a fleeting entertainment. There is a reason why even Aphrodite keeps a God for a spouse—and another for a lover—and he’s Aphrodite.”

“I don’t think you know anything about what I seek,” Viktor purses his lips, a soft blush painting his nose.

“The whole of Olympus knows what you seek, Kore. It has been written in the thread of life long before you were born. You came to be with two names, both with meanings so wildly different from one another that only one can ultimately win. Humans have been known to change our names for ages, but it is rare to have the meaning change. It speaks to resurrection. Kore, we all know what you want is to be wholly consumed and destroyed, and reborn a new; it is an urge that eats at your bones and nibbles at your mind and won’t stop until you have achieved it. You are as stubborn as both your parents.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Viktor gulps loudly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Your mother likes Kore. Kore is safe. Kore is pure and small and in need of protection. It is light and predictable. It belongs wholly to Olympus. That other name,” Minako points with her bottle at the shadow floating on the pool of water, “Persephone. Bringer of death. That’s not the name of a God of Olympus.”

“What does that mean?”

Hecate hiccups and shrugs, standing on unstable legs, “You’re smart, _Persephone_. Figure it out.”

.

_Beware of Gods bearing gifts_.

Viktor always wears long sleeves to cover his wrist, the one that reminds him he is _never_ to be courted by anyone. It doesn’t keep some of the many gods living in Olympus from trying to flirt and gain his attention. So, Lilia makes a deal with Viktor. He can live in Olympus, so long as he lives with Artemis, one of the Eternal Maidens of Olympus.

Thankfully, for an eternal maiden, Sara is curious and open-minded, with a large house and a garden for Viktor to play. She is happy to accompany Viktor to the many dance clubs in Olympus (and, more importantly, doesn’t chastise him if he presses a little to close to another shining body). Soon, living together feels like an eternal sleepover. Although Sara’s brother Apollo visits often, he doesn’t bother Viktor after a few attempts at flirtation, especially after Viktor explains that he can only live in Olympus if he—much like Sara—maintains the vows of maidenhood. Perhaps it’s because Apollo is used to being fawned over and respected that he grows bored of Viktor’s chastity, and begins to enlist him in ensuring the maiden status of his sister. Of course, Viktor doesn’t forget his previous dalliances among mortals, but he finds that the emptiness is momentarily filled with shopping excursions and the many bright flashing lights of city life.

(And, if he takes to disappearing into the world below from time to time to attempt to fill the void of want that rests deep in his belly, then no one is the wiser. His wrist says _nothing_ about men.)

Still, Olympus gives Viktor incredible freedoms. And, being the heir to an expansive agro-industrial conglomerate through his mother means he doesn’t have to actively work, beyond the Spring months, of course. Out of boredom, he chooses to sign contracts advertising local Olympus products. Having the beauty of Spring on his face is an excellent marketing ploy that many seek to exploit, and many others covet—including Aphrodite. However, soon excitement gives way to boredom, and boredom gives way to apathy.

Viktor begins to wonder why he ever left the world below for Olympus if he was only going to feel emptier than before.

.

He’s enjoying brunch with Sara, trying to pretend the local press isn’t taking more pictures of him, when he hears a buzz of excitement rush like electricity all around them. Not much sends his body jolting into life anymore, but this feels different and new, like the whole world turning upside down. Viktor has never seen _anything_ like this in Olympus.

“What’s happening over at the Lightning Emporium Hotel?” he asks Sara, who shrugs as she sips her tea.

“I think it’s the annual Lords brunch. Once a year, Hades, Zeus, Poseidon, and their families get together for brunch. Hades almost never comes to Olympus anymore, though. I think he’s missed the last three brunches. He’s the last of the Lords to take a spouse. It’s been causing quite a commotion for the minor gods for months to know he was coming this time.”

“There’s a lot of nymphs here today,” Viktor worries at his bottom lip.

“A lot of nymphs have come for tourism to see if they can get lucky. Back when I was a child, it was scandalous to even covet the Lord of a Realm, especially Hades—being the god of dead things and all. But he seems to have taken an almost cult-like celebrity status now. People say he’s quite handsome, and very, very rich.”

“Well, he’s a king,” Viktor offers lamely. “But people are acting like he’s a rock star.”

“He might as well be. The Underworld is the most populated of all the realms. The Gods may have the love and respect of humans while they live, but once they die, they belong to Hades forever. It’s an intoxicating kind of power, I suppose. To be so in control of everything. If you’re into _that_ sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Dating other people. What? I’m an eternal maiden for a reason. I might like to look, but I’m never tempted to touch.”

“Never?” Viktor whispers as he climbs on his chair to peek through the window over the thrums of people crowding the streets. “I don’t think I’ve seen something like this since Astraea was on tour. Is that him?”

“Who?” Sara blinks innocently. Her hand is suspended above another bagel.

“Hades. The one carrying that cute tiny dog.”

Sara stands on the chair to match Viktor and get a better look, “No. That’s Phichit. He’s Thanatos, the God of Death, and a real darling. I think my brother said Hades was coming with Hecate and Thanatos this time. He’s also single, I believe. Oh, that was unsightly—did you see how she tried to touch him? I tell you, minor gods are often so desperate to climb ranks. Yuuri is the one between the standard poodle and the giant multi-headed dog with the diamond collar. He has three dogs. I hear he’s very particular about them, too.”

“So that’s Hades,” Viktor whispers, heart hammering. He rests a hand on his chest, unsure how he can feel so much excitement at seeing a tussled head of dark hair and a set of broad shoulders. 

“Is this your first time seeing him?” Sara asks, curious.

Viktor nods, chuckling softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wear so much black.”

“That’s the Underworld for you,” Sarah laughs. “They’re so chic. Must come with having an entire production of diamonds and precious metals. There’s only so much you can do with silks and flowers. What’s happening to your shadow?”

Viktor looks down at his hand to find that his shadow is peeking from under the cuff of his sweater. It coils around his hand and crawls over his arm to rest on his shoulder.

“I guess it’s curious, too,” Viktor sighs, “I wonder why Hecate didn’t mention she’d be in Olympus. We’ve been corresponding for years.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor frowns. “But usually my mother doesn’t miss an opportunity to have people we know check on me.”

“Well, Demeter and Hades don’t really get along,” she explains.

“They don’t?” Viktor pouts.

Sara steps down from the chair to brush down her dress, “No, they don’t.”

.

Technically, Phichit doesn’t like Olympus.

He’s fine in the Underworld. It’s not like Olympus has _things_ that the Underworld covets—beyond sunshine. After all, they’re a technological marvel of a city with plenty of shiny and expensive things to keep them happy for millennia. And, it’s all thanks to Yuuri, who runs the Underworld with the precision and control a CEO might a company. But unlike Yuuri, who seems incapable of recognizing his own loneliness, Phichit is hopeful a trip to Olympus might bode better for his friend’s romantic aspirations—or at least get him laid.

When he steps out from the stretch limousine, he whistles low and steady: “Wow, look at this crowd, Yuuri!”

Yuuri doesn’t seem impressed as he walks behind Minako. His long, cape blazer rests artfully on his shoulders and billows behind him as he walks. He rubs at his right temple in small, gentle circles, trying to keep his sunglasses glued to his face. Cerberus growls menacingly at the crowd as they march their way to the hotel.

“We couldn’t have parked closer?” Yuuri asks.

“This crowd isn’t going to disperse until they have seen you,” Minako scoffs. “Might as well grin and bear it now.”

“Smile, Yuuri!” Phichit grins, patting him on the back.

“Isn’t it bad enough I was ordered to be here? Must I play the roadshow circus, too? I’m a king, and instead of respect, I get someone’s panties throw at my feet.” – He steps over them with disgust.

“Don’t be cranky, Yuuri,” Phichit inches the poodle in his arms closer so Vicchan can lick Yuuri’s face. Yuuri can’t keep from smiling when he feels the wet nose of his dog against this cheek. “I knew we should’ve had you nap on the ride over. You’re always cranky after you’ve had one too many drinks the night before.”

“Oh, hush now,” Minako chides them both. “It hurts you absolutely nothing to be kind to your fans, Yuuri. You know, Poseidon poses with all his fans. Maybe if you shook a few hands, the Olympians would respect us more. Or, at least like us. It’d be nice to vacation outside of the Underworld more often.”

Phichit pokes Yuuri’s side, “besides, you never know when or how you’ll meet your Intended!”

“Can we stop talking about what the Fates said?” Yuuri groans. “It’s obviously a lie. I have no Intended. It’s been hundreds of years, and I have remained alone. It is just the way things are, and no amount of forced smiling will change it.”

“But if you did find them here,” Phichit tries again.

Yuuri frowns, “If I did find them, then it would be for naught. Doesn’t the prophecy go that I would kill them?”

“You will _destroy_ them so that they may reborn a new, fashioned into a proper consort, as is needed in the Underworld,” Minako reminds him, “You are a fair and just ruler. You respect humankind. Most of the Gods of Olympus don’t. It makes sense what the Fates have said.”

“No one said anything about my Intended being a God.”

Minako scoffs, “You really are in a mood. There is no talking to you like this. Don’t take what the Fates say so literally. They love to speak in riddles.”

“Besides,” Phichit chirps, “there’s lots of way to wreck a person. Some are quite fun!”

“The Fates didn’t say _wreck_. They said _destroy_ ,” Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Imagine that I may have to kill my Intended so that they may stay in the Underworld. It’s like the cruelest joke: Who would ever want to love Hades? Who would ever marry Hades? A ghost, that’s who.”

“Hey, spirits are quite loyal,” Minako reminds him, pushing him into the hotel at last. “You’d be lucky to marry one.”

. 

_Obedience._

Viktor doesn’t have a history of obedience. He sighs into his hands, unsure what his fate will be now that he knows he is trapped in the Underworld. Hades had no sooner said his single expectation of him and had disappeared, walking through stone with the ease of a ghost traversing the walls of a home. When he returned hours later, it was with less flourish than before: “Here,” he said, handing Viktor a small velvet bag. “I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer in terms of clothing.”

“I brought no money with me to the mortal realm,” Viktor tells him. “I can’t pay you for these now.”

“Olympian money is no good here, anyway,” Hades explains, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. Slicked back, his hair looks nice, almost a midnight blue against the darkness of the room. “Take them. Consider them a gift.”

Viktor has never been offered a gift before: “I—if they’re a gift, then I really can’t accept them.”

“You are truly so intent to walk around my realm in nothing but rags barely covering your shoulders?” Hades smirks, “Very well. If you insist, then. Walk around naked, Kore.”

Viktor blushes a bright crimson as his arms fall to cover most of himself.

“I—I didn’t mean that,” Viktor whispers. “I just. I can’t.”

“ _Beware of Gods bearing gifts,_ ” Hades nods, pointing at the words on his wrist. Amused, he sits on the stone chair opposite the bed again. His perfect posture isn’t missed on Viktor, and he finds that there’s something appealing about the way Hades carries himself with such grace amid so much wealth and power. “I thought it was an interesting phrase. I take it that it wasn’t your choice?”

“My mother branded me with it when I was young,” Viktor explains.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “As if the Fates know more than to play with tongues. What could Demeter have possibly needed to know about you, Kore? – It seems like your whole future is written in your name.”

“Well,” Viktor squirms. “She took me to see the Fates once to understand the origins of my second name. It wasn’t very helpful. I’m still not sure what they told her, but I imagine it wasn’t good because ever since then I have been told to stay away from—”

“All Gods of Olympus,” Hades nods sagely. “So I’ve heard.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Viktor nods. “So, then, you must know why it is crucial I return before my mother finds me missing. She’s very protective.”

“You have a second name?” Hades asks, intrigued. His eyes settled on the shadow wrapped tightly around Viktor’s arm. _Persephone_ , it whispers, and Hades stretches out a hand towards Viktor. Bored, he says: “I see it now. Here, hand it over. Let an Underworld god decipher Underworld things.”

“My—my shadow is from the Underworld?” Viktor blinks, confused. “It doesn’t leave my side.”

Hades’ eyes snap to Viktor’s face, and he feels a tremor shake through his body.

“Then,” Hades orders, leaning back against the chair, “you come here.”

“T—there’s no space over there to sit,” Viktor stammers. 

“There’s plenty of space on my lap, Kore,” Hades chuckles, “Are you going to come or will I have to make you?”

**TBC**


	3. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a ton to the folks that have commented. This chapter is for you. It's been super discouraging to see the number of subscriptions compared to the ratio of comments (actually, it's kind of insulting at this point), so, honestly, fam, this might be the last chapter I post for this story. It was the last bit of reserves I had pre-written. Hope you all enjoyedwhat little we had and that you have an awesome coming week! <3

**Part IV**

_Gifts_

Viktor sits on Hades’ lap, surprised at how comfortable and at ease he feels there. Although Hades is slightly shorter than Viktor, he’s strong, and seems to withstand his weight without problems. Hades lets his fingers draw over Viktor’s shadow, which remains steadfast around his wrist. Viktor stares down through his lashes, studying Hades profile from above; he flushes a dark red when he’s caught staring and Hades give him a wink.

“Persephone,” he murmurs, poking at Viktor’s name. The shadow unfurls at the mention of its name, pleased and relaxed, as if finally recognizing it has come home. “ _Bringer of death_. Not a name for a God of Olympus, certainly. I wonder who your mother pissed off that you’ve been cursed like this.”

“I wasn’t cursed; this is how I was born,” Viktor sniffs. He’s overheard many things about his particular predicament, some more insulting than others, but no one had ever tried to claim his shadow was a sign of a curse. Who would even be able to curse a God? “The Fates themselves said so. And, I’m not technically of Olympus.”

“Oh?” Hades questions, eyes following the way his chest flushes with pink. Viktor is used to be being admired, but there’s something about the way Hades looks at him that makes his entire body feel off-kilter. It’s not an unwanted or unpleasant sensation, just different, much like the first time he first caught sight of Hades in Olympus.

Viktor continues, trying to keep his tone steady, “I lived in the mortal realm with my mother most of my life. I suppose it makes sense I’d have a little bit of both places. Perhaps I belong to both.”

“Just because you lived among mortals does not make you one of mine. You’re still a God of Olympus, until the Underworld claims you, or so it says right here on this shadow,” Hades chuckles, letting his fingers wander from Viktor’s wrist to the expanse above. Viktor is glad he moisturized (and embarrassed that his thoughts wander at the mention of being _claimed_ ). His skin should be soft. Hades fingers slide smoothly and send small sparks and shivers up his back. “Quite a bit of nonsense. The only way the Underworld can claim you, is if you die. Gods don’t die, especially you. Which reminds me, God of Growing Things, what should I call you? – Worshipping you shouldn’t make much of a difference for someone from Olympus. Your powers don’t work here. But seeing as you have a shadow, perhaps I should be careful. We wouldn’t want you out before time.”

“Viktor is fine.”

“Viktor, then,” Hades hums around his name, his free hand moving to pick at a tattered piece of tunic barely covering his right nipple. The bud is hard against the chill of the Underworld, and almost aches with want when Hades skin unintentionally grazes over it. “You’re sure I cannot convince you to put on some clothes?”

“I cannot accept gifts,” Viktor reminds him, crossing his arms to try to cover his chest.

Hades seems to ponder his words for a minute before he snaps his fingers together.

“What if I lend you clothes? That’s not a _gift_. A loan is a loan for a reason.”

Viktor considers this for a second. There was nothing in his mother’s rules that said he couldn’t accept loans, although he imagined his mother would be equally horrified at the thought that he would let a God have leverage over him. _Semantics_ , he thinks, _you can’t stay naked the entire time you’re here! Who knows how long that might be?_

“T—that sounds acceptable. But then, how will I return them to you?” Viktor looks sheepish as he reminds Yuuri of their potential predicament. “I would need them. I have nothing else.”

“You think yourself into trouble, Viktor,” Hades taps at Viktor’s bottom lip. It’s plush and bounces back against the motion. When the feeling of soft skin on his is gone, Viktor licks his lips. He finds that Hades studies his ever movement with interest. “Do you ever just stop thinking?”

Viktor shakes his head.

“You could always send them back once you’re in Olympus,” Hades offers. His smile grows almost dangerous when he whispers, “Or, you could just trade something for them now. I’m sure we could come to an agreement.”

“D—does that mean you’ll eventually let me go?” Viktor focuses on the part most important to him.

Hades nods, bored as he looks away, “Viktor, I have no intention of keeping you here. I only need you to be here for a short while. If you are obedient, as I said, then that will be a _very_ short amount of time. But, if you misbehave, you might be here longer than you or I expect. I’ll explain more once you’ve agreed to my conditions and we’ve moved you to a more suitable location.”

 _So, if I don’t agree to be obedient, I’ll probably stay stuck in here_ , Viktor considers his options.

“I promise I’ll be good,” Viktor nods rapidly. “And I will send the tunic back to you.”

“You’re already good,” Hades locks eyes with him. He brushes an errant lock of hair away from Viktor’s face. “Remember, I didn’t ask you to be good; I asked you to be _obedient_. So, will you be obedient, Viktor?”

Viktor looks down at his lap, “I will be obedient, Lord Hades.”

“Good,” Hades responds, tapping his exposed thigh, “you may move now. And call me Yuuri. There’s only so much worship I can withstand in a day. I’ll leave you to get dressed and come for you in a short while. You’ll stay in my bedroom.”

“Y—your bedroom?” Viktor gulps hard.

Yuuri nods, “No one knows its location but me. It’ll be a more comfortable prison cell than this one. Now hurry and get changed, Viktor. Remember, you promised to be obedient.”

.

Lilia had always been a good mother—the patient and wise kind that doted on her child unconditionally. She had given Viktor everything (even all of her time an attention, much to the detriment of her job during his early years). Even now, she had been supportive of his lifestyle in Olympus, trusting that her son knew better than to associate with other Gods beyond friendship. Lilia had never been one to keep Viktor locked up. There was no reason for him to disappear.

“Why must you repay me like this, Kore?” she moans in the sky.

All of the humans hear the cry of Demeter as she scours the Earth. They hide in their homes, shuddering in fear as they watch their labor wilt under the pressure of her grief. Kore, God of Growing Things, has disappeared—or so it is said by the God’s worshippers. Demeter is angry, or so her worshippers say.

By the hundreds, humans line up by the many altars made for the pleasure of Kore: “Return,” they pray, chants bearing just as much sorrow as hunger. Meanwhile, women wear dark veils and mourn with Demeter.

“What if he doesn’t return?” Lilia says to herself, heart hammering. She could handle Spring on her own, much as she had done in the years before Kore, but the loneliness would kill her—in as much as a Goddess could feel the cold, lonely embrace of death.

Demeter sits on a boulder, elbows on her knees as she considers a life without Kore.

“Where are you?” she weeps.

All around her, the tree leaves grow yellow and red and fall, as if pulled by magnets to the ground. The flowers bend until they can press their ears to the Underworld. Perhaps, the bees think, they also hear Kore below gound. Animals begin digging, as if seeking the warmth now available to them in the soil. But Demeter does not even notice, far too busy now searching through stacks of hay for strands of her child’s golden hair. Her ear is pressed to the wind, as if hoping it might carry the ring of birds chirping in Spring. It would be the closest to her child’s laughter.

Meanwhile, the grass glows greener, and she does not see it. All around her, everything seems to pull itself closer to what lies beneath the soil. _Persephone_ , they all cry, and Demeter remains incapable of hearing it. 

.

When Viktor is five, Lilia wakes him up with kisses, and he laughs and climbs out of bed. The Water Nymphs prepare his bath. When he’s clean, Lilia combs his hair into a high ponytail. She decorates his head with flowers from the field, and dresses him in a ruffled shirt and a pair of overalls. When he kicks down on his light-up sneakers, he smiles, and Helios smiles back. The Earth basks in the glow of happiness that surrounds them all thanks to Kore.

Demeter kisses his forehead and says, “Come, today is an important day, little one. We are going to the Underworld.”

And so, she takes him into her arms, and carries him off to meet the Fates.

The Moirai welcome him as one, their arms waving together in pattern to entice him forward, but Viktor stands behind Lilia’s legs. She lets her cool hand press over his warm cheek in reassurance. The unsightly shadow stays close to the ground, writhing like a snake.

“Persephone,” the three weaving goddesses say, voices echoing all over the room, “bringer of death, we welcome you to our abode. Do not be frightened, Consort of Aidoneus, for we have known you since you came to exist in the world, and have long looked forward to your ascension with anxious impatience.”

Lilia gasps almost immediately. Her body tremors in anger. Behind her, Viktor starts and wilts. She kneels down to his level for a hug, and ushers Viktor to go play in the corner: “It’s alright, Kore. Go play. I will be with you shortly, my love. I promise.”

“The child has come to know his future,” Clotho raises a thin finger at her. “Why do you send him away, Demeter?”

Lachesis nods from the spot next to her sister as she stretches thread between her fingers. She holds it up to her line of vision, measuring quietly: “It is he that must know _his_ future, not you.”

“Kore is my child. I will lead him in the right direction, as his mother. I will take responsibility for his future. Now, tell me what you mean by _Consort of Aidoneus_.”

“That is not in the rules, Demeter,” Atropos reminds her, the golden sheers glinting in her hand. “You are not above the rules.”

“I make the rules for Kore. He will be no one’s spouse. I will not let anyone ruin him,” Lilia hisses.

“Kore was born with two names for a reason, Demeter,” Clotho explains, voice smooth as silk. She continues spinning the thread. “You know that to keep him from his destiny would ultimately ruin him, and anyone else that keeps him from his ultimate destiny would be ruined with him. He is much like a bomb, ticking down to his final evolution. You cannot change what’s been written for him. You have already been written into the equation, and the results remain the same. Make the road a little easier for him, not harder.”

“Perhaps if we show her,” Lachesis taps her chin in thought, “she will feel better about the situation.”

“About handing my child over to Hades?!”

“That is not in the rules,” Atropos sighs, both at her sisters and Demeter. “Either showing her Persephone’s future, or any child being handed over to anyone. What nonsense. The Underworld has no space for children.”

Clotho ignores her sister, nodding sagely, “yes, yes, let us show you. Where is that television screen? – Oh, right, we sent it for an upgrade. Perhaps a photo will do. Lachesis, be a dear and get the picture, will you?”

“Yes, sister,” Lachesis bows her head, leaving her spot between them both to go search for the requested item. When she returns, she’s muttering something or other to herself. She hands Clotho a manila folder, watching impatiently for it to be opened. “There!”

Demeter snatches the picture from Clotho’s hands, fury igniting her gaze as she growls: “Who is _this_?!”

“That’s Persephone,” Lachesis rubs her hands together. “Quite a pretty sight, is it not? So many lovely diamonds on his hair.”

“What has he done to my child? My beautiful child? He does not glow; his smile does not make Helios smile, instead it makes Aphrodite weep with jealousy! It’s as if the Moon has washed over his hair, once kissed by the Sun,” Demeter cries. She holds the photo against her chest. When she takes a second look, she sniffs, “Pomegranate red on his lips. Of course! Leave it to Hades to be a trickster—”

“Aidoneus has never been known to trick a soul,” Atropos chimes in. “Demeter, why do you mourn? Persephone has a great future ahead of him.”

“Such tragedy for my only child!”

Lachesis scoffs, “Young blood, I must tell you that I have seen much tragedy, and this is not it. Aidoneus is a powerful king, with mandate over two realms and wealth unnumbered. Persephone will be a powerful consort. He will rule forever! What more could a mother want for her child?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it! Kore is never to set foot in the Underworld again after today! He will never marry!”

Clotho sighs, “Even if you had it your way, Demeter, if not Hades, then perhaps someone else. The development of relationships is only natural. He will eventually grow up and seek to separate from you and find love. And eventually he will make his way down to the Underworld, where he belongs.”

“No God of Olympus shall have him either! No one!”

The Fates exchanged looks with each other, sighing as they watched Demeter drop the photo on the ground and storm out of their home.

. 

Helios isn’t surprised when Demeter comes to his throne room. She stands with her back to him to ensure she is not blinded by him. He simply fluffs his hair, waiting impatiently for her question: “Lilia,” he addresses her, one leg dangling from the arm of his throne, “what a pleasant surprise! I apologize that we must meet like this, but you have chosen quite an inopportune time of the day. I am currently shining my brightest. How can I help you?”

“Celestino,” Lilia sobs, and he rolls his eyes, “you see everything. Please, tell me where you have last seen my Kore.”

“Ah, right, Viktor is missing,” Celestino nods, “What has it been, almost three days now?”

“Yes, about three. It’s as if the Earth swallowed him whole.”

He taps his fingers against the arm of the throne.

“More like he fell into a hole.”

Lilia’s shoulders tense, “What?”

“Don’t worry about Kore. I have seen many things, but never have I seen someone fall into more safety. Yuuri caught him before he hit the ground,” Celestino grins. “I imagine Viktor might have decided to take a little vacation in the Underworld. I hear it’s becoming quite the destination. Oh, right. That’s because you’re starving the humans to _literal_ death.”

“Kore is in the Underworld? No! After so many years,” Lilia paces around, eyes cast to the ground for fear of becoming situationally blinded by Helios, “all my warnings, all my hard work!”

“You should’ve thought of that before giving permission for Hades to court Kore, then.”

“I did no such thing!”

Celestino scoffs, checking his nailbeds, “Demeter, please. I _personally_ witnessed Zeus telling Aphrodite that Hades had his blessing to court Kore as his future spouse. I have to think things are going well if he hasn’t returned from his accidental excursion to the Underworld; imagine that, too, Aidoneus taking a spouse. Yuuri has remained a lone for a long time.”

“Zeus did what?!” Demeter bellows, and below them, the clouds begin to take on a dark, grey color.

“I said—”

“I heard you! And by the time I am done, so will the whole world, nay the universe will hear my anger!” Lilia grits her teeth, spinning to take flight. “Zeus will learn that he might make decisions for the world, but I make decisions over Kore!”

Celestino waves, feelig only slightly confused. Eventually, he shrugs, thinking to himself how temperamental Olympus Gods can be half the time.

“Ciao, then! Give my best to Zeus!” 

. 

Viktor stands the moment he sees Yuuri again. Third time is the charm. It feels like he’s now used to seeing the God appear randomly in his chamber; his heart beats hard against his chest, but his shadow and pulse remain even and calm. Yuuri gives him a short nod, admiring him in the new silver robes he wears proudly, chest brimming with precious stones and pearls. It matches Viktor’s hair and makes him feel like a shiny diamond, twirling in the darkness, waiting to be discovered: “Ta-da?” he tries to be cute, spinning for Yuuri’s eager eyes. He isn’t unaware of his charms, and it makes him feel good that he might make Yuuri look even a fraction of how Viktor feels when he’s in the room. “I like this a lot,” he whispers, clearing his throat. “It’s like a robe, only shinier. These embellishments are pretty, too.”

“Thanks for wearing it,” Yuuri clears his throat as well, staring down at his shoes. “I honestly wasn’t sure what you’d want to wear. This seemed like a good compromise at the time, something between modern and olden, much like you, I suppose.”

“I do like the boho look,” Viktor nods. His eyes widen when he takes stock of Yuuri’s words. “Old? Did you—did you just call me old?”

“I wouldn’t dare call you old,” Yuuri laughs, raising both his palms. “Did I offend, Kore?”

“Deeply,” Viktor sniffs, looking away to finish braiding his hair. “But I forgive you because you lent me clothes and, even if you’ve been trying to scare me, I think you’re actually trying to be nice to me.”

“I do like scaring people,” Yuuri admits, not even slightly put off as they stand face to face in the small confines of Viktor’s room. “And I have enjoyed being witness to your fear and curiosity so far, but you’re right that I am being nice to you and haven’t as yet done anything to earn your mistrust. For a reason.”

Viktor pouts his lips, “Because you want me to be obedient.”

“Because I want you to be obedient,” Yuuri confirms. “You don’t like the concept of obedience, do you?”

Viktor shakes his head, braid bouncing, “I’m not very good at it.”

“I’m sure you could be if you tried.”

“But I never have any inclination to try,” Viktor gives him a small, coy smile. His fingers play with the tips of his hair. He walks past Yuuri, splaying a hand over the hard rock wall. He turns over his shoulder to ask with large, blue eyes, “how does it work? How do I get out?”

“You can’t,” Yuuri explains, standing behind Viktor to press a hand on the small of his back. “But with my help, it’s as simple as just stepping forward. Step forward Viktor.”

“Then I’d hit myself against the rock!”

Yuuri tisks, “what did we say about obedience?”

Viktor follows his instructions and finds himself on the other side of the wall with Yuuri pressed against his back. He stumbles forward to separate them, and almost trips over a set of poodles staring at him with their heads tipped to the right. Viktor falls to his knees immediately, cooing as he starts scratching behind their ears.

“How cute!” he squeals, “Is this what obedience gets you? Dogs?”

Yuuri laughs, “It can get you many things. Makkachin and Vicchan are only a perk of being in the Underworld. Well, come along now. My car is waiting.”

Viktor blinks, “y—you drive?”

“It’s not the most impressive thing I can do,” Yuuri shakes his head in amusement, reaching to pull Viktor up by the arm as he walks past him. The two poodles follow behind him obediently. “You should see the things I can do with rope.”

“Like sailor knots?” Viktor ask innocently. “I’ve visited the ports before. I’ve seen what men do to prepare at the docks. It’s really impressive.”

“Something like that,” Yuuri grins, opening the passenger door for Viktor. “Please, get in.”

“Can you show me the knots later?”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, leaning down to whisper close to Viktor’s face, “you want me to show you my ropes?”

“I want you to show me how you use the ropes?” Viktor tries again, voice meek.

“Maybe,” Yuuri says, slamming the door close. “If you keep behaving, that can be your reward.”

**TBC**


	4. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the encouragement. It means a ton (and I'll reply to all comments soon... it's been some rough weeks)! Even more so right now. <3 Thanks a million. Here is another little bit. Hope you all keep enjoying how things develop.

**Part V**

_Hades_

“Spring is the very _definition_ of sex,” Hermes explains to Christophe and Viktor as the three have another round of drinks. “I mean, think about it. Everything growing wild. Earth giving birth to everything—fruits, flowers—and even the animals take it as a time of renewal and life! What could be more sensual than Spring? The fact Viktor lives in eternal maiden status because of his mother’s command is the very antithesis of natural.”

Viktor blushes feverishly, staring at his cup of wine, “Y—you really think so?”

“Oh my gods,” Christophe whispers, a quick smirk pushing his cheek upwards in delight. “Why, if it isn’t Lord Hades himself over there being ushered home. I guess the meeting of the three Lords took longer than expected.”

Hermes whistles low and steady, “he looks hammered! I wonder what happened.”

“He probably broke up with that nymph of his,” Christophe scoffs.

Viktor looks steady in the direction of Hades and his friends. He feels suspended in that moment when Hades turns his head just quick enough that their eyes meet for a short second. Viktor feels his hands shake when his curious glances are met with a drunken wink.

“Damn it, Kore!” Christophe curses when Viktor drops the glass between his hands. It fells and spills, splashing by Christophe’s shoes and inking his pants. “These were limited edition. Ugh. I should go clean up. Hermes, don’t go anywhere. I want to go home after this.”

Hermes chuckles, downing his entire glass as he sidles just a little closer to Viktor, “Well, you know what that means. Care to bless us?”

Viktor rolls his eyes, feeling almost dejected, “I’m sure Christophe can handle it himself, being the God of Love and all. I only make plants grow.”

“I’m telling you, Kore. You _own_ sensuality—actually own it, instead of throwing yourself a pity party all the time.”

“Thanks,” he responds in earnest. Hermes—outside of his harmless flirting—is a good friend, and often seems to want what’s best for Viktor, even if its at the expense of breaking his mother’s rules (and sending Aphrodite into fits of anger) by testing the limits of Viktor’s own patience. He has no feelings for Hermes, even if accepting or reciprocating some of his attentions might give him a few more freedoms. “Really, thanks. Have a good night, okay?”

He reaches for his coat and slides from the booth to make his way outside. Viktor tries to walk quickly through the expanse of the parking lot. In the vicinity, he spots the familiar group again—Hades, Thanatos, and Hecate off somewhere talking to their driver. Viktor has never seen a dark limousine before. It stretches out into infinity, like something mystical and different in the city.

“Hey, hey you,” he hears the drunken slur of Hades, and he stops, turning to push his hair over his shoulder.

Thanatos holds onto Hades by the waist. The King’s arm drapes loosely over his friend’s shoulders.

“Yes?” Viktor says, gulping, even as he stands tall.

Hades is handsome, much in the way darkness feels elegant and mysterious. He gives him another smirk—the kind that promises all the things Viktor longs to experience, beyond the unsatisfying embrace of human men that (as he has come to learn from experience) hold nothing for him. Perhaps another god might do better, maybe even this one, but Viktor knows the rules, and no god has defied his mother.

“I saw you earlier. You were looking at me,” he says, and Viktor notices for the first time that—unlike earlier—he’s not dressed fashionably. An ugly blue tie hangs undone around his neck. “How would you like to come home with me?”

Thanatos seems to pale at his friend’s words. Hecate looks up from front of the car, shock written all over her face as she focuses on Viktor’s face and realizes that the God of the Underworld has just propositioned Demeter’s son.

“I am _so_ sorry. He’s really drunk,” Thanatos squeaks.

Hecate screeches, “ _Yuuri_!”

Viktor purses his lips, tilting his head for a minute before he says, “Okay. I’ll go home with you. Should I get into your car?”

“Wait, what?” Thanatos gasps.

Hades beams.

Hecate slaps Hades upside the head, ordering Thanatos to help her stuff him into the car. Viktor watches silently, unsure if he should remind them that he has just been invited to accompany the King of the Realm of the Dead to his home—and accepted with all his senses unhindered. It’s not that he expects Hades will be ready for much right away, but Viktor is happy to wait. There’s a promise in that smile, a veritable spell in those eyes that have beckoned him with a wink, and Viktor will be damned if he doesn’t take on this chance. This isn’t the first time a god has offered him anything without fear of Demeter, but it’s definitely the first time Viktor’s entire body feels the need to say _yes_.

There’s a magnetism to the entire affair.

“Excuse me,” he tries, and Hecate looks up from the doorframe.

“Absolutely not, little god,” she admonishes him. “You don’t know what you’re trying to get yourself into—and neither does he. BUT HE WILL HEAR FROM ME WHEN HE’S SOBER, PROPOSITIONING A BABY GOD! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? HE’S ONLY TWENTY-THREE! Go home, Kore.”

“B—but,” Viktor pouts, “but he said—”

“Never mind what he said. Never mind what you _think_ you want! This will only bring us all ruin. Go home before I tell your mother you’re going around accepting the invitations of strange gods to come party with them in their home.”

What could Hecate even know about what Viktor wants?

Viktor gasps, “I am not! This is the first time.”

Hecate seems to soften immediately, then. She closes the door with a slam and sighs, looking almost motherly as she crosses a couple of steps to press her palms on his cheeks, “little one, go home. I realize there’s a lot of strange, first-time feelings you’re encountering right now, being new to the city, feeling the attention of the Lord of a realm on you, but this isn’t how it’s supposed to go for you. Trust me. You’ll be glad you waited later.”

“What does that even mean?” Viktor asks her, growing frustrated.

She simply ignores him as she gets into the passenger seat of the car.

.

Viktor is under no delusions. He is not a city god. He isn’t even one of the Olympians. Next to them, he is the equivalent of a village boy—a Class B god whose gifts and duties could easily be (and often were) engulfed into those of his own mother. The fact Viktor is worshipped at all is itself a marvel of farmers and villagers, who often tack a gift here or there as they pray to his mother. The attention of those in the Olympian cities is less surprising, and more the result of curiosity (thanks, again, to his mother,) and less of genuine interest.

He considers this as he sips on strong, black coffee. No sugar. He holds the mug with both hands, feeling almost like a child as he sits on the floor of Yuuri’s large library, the one adjacent to his bedroom. The bedroom door looms large and shadowy. It terrifies him. Unlike him, Yuuri is a King. In the natural order of things, all things—whether he wants them or not—appear to bend to his will, even Viktor. It’s hard not to comply with Yuuri’s orders when Viktor feels this uncanny thirst overcome him whenever their bodies touch, even innocently.

“How old are you, Viktor?” Yuuri asks him, sliding down next to him so that they may both enjoy the hearth of the fire. Viktor had complained about the coldness of Yuuri’s home, and for his trouble a mountain of blankets had been dumped on him in front of the fire.

“Twenty-seven,” he responds softly. He blows on the coffee mug again.

“Marriageable age,” Yuuri nods. “And how long has Hermes been courting you now?”

Viktor blinks, confused: “He’s not. No one is. Remember my mother’s rule?”

Yuuri hums, barely paying him any attention as his small poodle sniffs his side. He lifts the small dog to press soft kisses on his nose. The larger standard poodle seems to be in equal need of affection, woofing softly next to Viktor, who proceeds to pet it.

“Right. No God of Olympus and all that thing about gifts,” Yuuri hums. “Well, it seems Aphrodite missed the memo, or has chosen to ignore it entirely. You’re here because you’ve captured the imagination of one too many of his lovers, and he’d like you to stay out of Olympus for a little while.”

Viktor blinks, sitting up straight, “What? For how long?”

Yuuri worries on his bottom lip, looking nervous for the first time since Viktor has seen him. It’s endearing. It floods Viktor with a strange, uncanny warmth he hasn’t felt in a very long time. _What’s wrong with me_ , he sighs, watching the God of the Underworld fret over his dog: “Like, forever. Maybe. Aphrodite is fickle when it comes to his whims. But I think if you just laid low for a couple of weeks, he’ll forget. He isn’t the brightest, or at least not the most persistent, just the most unforgiving when something threatens his status as the god of sleeping around.”

Viktor snorts against his better judgement. Immediately, he presses both hands to his mouth: “I…”

“I said it. Not you. It’s not like he can come for you again, and I’m not afraid of Aphrodite. You’re allowed to laugh.” Yuuri waves him off dismissively, and Makkachin responds by laying her head on Viktor’s lap. “Like I was saying, since I’m not particularly interested in courting, much less marrying you, and Aphrodite has me by the balls—”

“—you want me to be obedient and stay here,” Viktor nods. He feels something unfamiliar dip in his belly. Is it disappointment? It’s hard to tell. Viktor has so seldom felt disappointment. He’s long come to terms with his status as virtually _untouchable._ He does not mourn being unwed, ever, especially because he has found comfort in knowing he’s at least wanted, desirable, just off-limits. But Yuuri’s words haunt him now. Yuuri has no interest in Viktor beyond keeping Aphrodite appeased for some reason. “If you’re not afraid of Aphrodite, then why are you doing this?”

“Because I owe him a favor,” Yuuri explains.

“So, you’ve been blackmailed,” Viktor reads between the lines. “I see. How long do you intend to keep me here?”

“Perhaps a couple of weeks at most,” Yuuri shrugs. “I haven’t exactly mapped this all out in my head. I’m sorry, Kore.”

“You worship me after insulting me? Figures that is the way of kings,” Viktor shrugs. “I’m not surprised, really. I’m not even hurt; well, perhaps a little, seeing as I always thought Aphrodite a friend. I see now he considers me a threat. It is only slightly disappointing that you didn’t bring me here for the purposes of marriage, though.”

.

The thing about Kore is that he throws Yuuri off-kilter. He’s curious and smart, and altogether much more perceptive (and maybe even melancholy) than Yuuri expected the God of Growing Things to be—which makes him feel like a veritable jackass when Viktor says: “I suppose village boys are only good for fleeting entertainment.”

Yuuri falters, “You don’t actually believe that of yourself, do you, Kore?”

“What? That I’m only good for a bit of a good time? Of course not! But it’s obvious you seem to think—”

“That you’re a village—”

“I grew up among mortals. In a village. I am worshipped only—when they remember or seek to please my mother—by farmers and maidens. Of course, I’m not surprised a king has no interest in me, but I suppose I had hoped, maybe, considering what happened that one night, that you were different…” he sniffs, and Yuuri feels something akin to heartbreak. “It was foolish of me: Why would a king ever want to court a Grade B god?”

Yuuri scrambles to his knees, “Hey, hey, Kore, come on. Grade B god? Where are you getting this from? – Would a Grade B god’s beauty threaten Aphrodite, the God of Beauty himself? Would a Grade B god have the interest of Apollo and Hermes?”

“I suppose that’s as good as it gets for someone of my rank. It’s not even that I am interested in being courted. I just had thought, maybe this was about _me_ and not about Aphrodite.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Viktor frowns, “Gods, you don’t remember, do you? You propositioned me outside The Vine almost three years ago.”

“I—I did what?!”

For all his usual finesse, Yuuri doesn’t feel in control right now. His hands shake as he pulls them back immediately and stumbles to his feet: “You must be mistaken.” – But it sounds like something Yuuri would do when under the influence of alcohol. He considers Viktor’s words for a moment. It’s no secret Yuuri finds Viktor infinitely attractive. He might not want a consort, but there is something delectable in the way Kore _delights_ in things, especially things in Yuuri’s realm. There’s something that fills Yuuri with excitement when he senses Kore’s curiosity envelop them both. It’s titillating in the way he’d never thought possible, probably because he never imagined anyone would so willingly peel away at their inhibitions for his pleasure.

Kore’s delight is rivaled only by his awe and fear of everything. His obedience is in itself a gift. Yuuri does not doubt his previous words: Kore seems impulsive and wild, perhaps as untamed as Spring itself. Obedience does not come easy to someone like Kore, but he wants to try. For Yuuri. And he’s done remarkably well so far.

“You were drunk, but you asked me to come home with you, and I said yes. I had only arrived very recently in the Olympian cities, and you were there for the annual meeting with the other Lords. I don’t know what brought you to The Vine that night, but I thought,” he pouts, looking down at Makkachin’s head as it lops in sleep, “I thought we had a connection of sorts, that maybe you could _see_ me.”

“I—Kore, I have no words,” Yuuri gulps, something heavy in his chest. “I apologize for my actions. I’ve often been told I’m a sloppy drunk, which is why I don’t drink often. Losing control is not my preferred mode. I didn’t mean to insult your virtue, then.”

“You didn’t!” Viktor’s eyes are aflame with something Yuuri can’t recognize. “I accepted _then_ because I wanted to, not out of some innocent curiosity or maiden naivete as everyone seems to assume of me. I _knew_ precisely what I wanted then, but it seems no matter what I do, all everyone sees is Kore.”

Yuuri blinks, “And what exactly is wrong with Kore?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor yells, tears streaming down his cheeks. “But no matter what I do, I can’t seem to make it fit. This name I was given feels like it doesn’t fit.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispers, careful and doting, “there is nothing wrong with purity.”

“There is when purity isn’t so pure anymore!” he screams. Makkachin starts immediately, whining to lick at Viktor’s tear-stained cheeks.

And Yuuri blinks, pursing his lips as he slowly realizes what Viktor has hinted—not for the first time. He sits back down on the floor, eyes set on the forgotten mug by Viktor’s shaking thighs. Rage seems to consume the God of Growing Things in a way unfamiliar to Yuuri in anyone other than Ares himself.

“Being… _untouched_ isn’t what makes you pure, Viktor, much like being moody doesn’t make me a king,” he explains. “Who was it? Hermes, Apollo?”

Viktor shakes his head.

Yuuri studies him for a moment longer, “Right. Kore is still Kore. But you have another name. It wasn’t an Olympian. It was a human, wasn’t it?”

Viktor nods, slowly.

“You’ve seen the sailors,” Yuuri grins, chuckling to himself. “You went to the ports, and learned about more than just knots, I take it?”

“Stop making fun of me,” Viktor sniffs, hugging his knees close to his chest. Makkachin stands guard next to him, liking behind his ears.

“I’m not,” Yuuri sighs, pushing him gently with his arm. “You and I? We’re not that different. I also haven’t _enjoyed_ the touch of another god. Delighting in mortals isn’t uncommon, although I suppose in my case it’s not particularly satisfying. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“So, you’re not going to tattle to my mother?”

Yuuri shakes his head, “Viktor, I’m not on your mother’s good books. She and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. I mean, she grows things, which means she helps things live. I only care about the dead ones.” He brushes his hands over his pants, considering his next words carefully. “Why don’t we set some ground rules? I think you’ve had enough of cages for a lifetime; I’m not very good at gatekeeping, either. It’s why I have my big dog do it for me.”

“A—are you saying that I don’t have to stay in here?”

“Here, as in the Underworld? Yes, that’s our deal, remember? Here, as in my bedroom? I don’t think you could find your way out of the Underworld even if you tried, so why not let you try. Although I have a feeling that you’ll enjoy spending some time away from the stresses of Olympus and you mother.”

Viktor gasps, throwing his arms around Yuuri’s neck, “Oh, Yuuri, you mean it? Thank you! I’ll behave. I’ll be so good. I promise! Anything you say, I will do, just don’t make me stay locked up in here. This might be my only chance to see the Underworld. My mother used to tell me never to wander down here.”

_Why would Demeter care so much?_ Yuuri considers, but chooses to ignore the question for now.

“Wait until you hear my rules before you thank me, Kore,” Yuuri warns, the throbbing on his temple warning of an oncoming headache. “You might find obedience more burdensome than you imagine.”


	5. Part VI

**Part VI: Minthe**

The rules are simple. Pretty much, as long as Viktor respects his vow to be obedient and doesn’t make any attempts to leave Hades, he’ll be in compliance. There’s a couple of other rules here and there that he is asked to follow, but, overall, Viktor considers the requests easy and manageable.

 _Beware of idleness_ , Yuuri jokes as he sips his morning coffee. _Beware of disobedience._ It seems the brand that has haunted him for years has become a type of inside joke between them, and the familiarity grows by the minute to engulf the chasm previously left behind by Viktor’s own fear.

In truth, Yuuri doesn’t just give Viktor freedom (within reason). He gives him a job (which easily helps Viktor overcome his concerns over accepting gifts or loans). It’s not even a hard job. In fact, it’s almost delightful.

Viktor likes to keep a tidy house. Domesticity comes to him like breathing thanks to years of living aboveground amongst mortals. Yuuri is not very tidy. Mess and chaos, and complete disinterest in organization, make him an ideal candidate for a maid. It’s an absolutely perfect arrangement, and the list of chores isn’t even that long, just _detailed_. But Viktor can deal with that just fine.

When Yuuri leaves for work the next day, Viktor gets to work.

He goes around the large house, slowly picking up after Lord Hades with a happy hum and a pep to his step. Even laundry feels fun, considering Yuuri wears the most intoxicating of colognes, and making the bed is a perfect excuse for Viktor to lounge in it a little longer. He finds that it doesn’t smell like Yuuri at all, though. There’s no spot left behind to show that anyone else was on the bed, other than Viktor, the night before. The knowledge of this leaves him a little disappointed, and worried Yuuri isn’t sleeping, or might be sleeping elsewhere to give Viktor his bedroom. He might be a little infatuated, which isn’t good (or realistic), except for the fact that he is _here—_ and he’d like to take advantage of it _._

This is the best job he’s ever had, and it even comes with dogs. Makkachin and Vicchan tilt their heads from left to right as they follow Viktor’s movements easily. Every so often, Viktor stops to fluff the spot behind their ears. By lunch time, he dips his feet into Yuuri’s large pool and takes stock of his life: “What would my mother say if she knew I was here?” he asks Makkachin, and the standard poodle barks and licks the side of his face. Neither of them will hopefully know what his mother would say.

For years, Demeter has warned Viktor about the Underworld. She has kept careful stock of his life and choices, and barred him from any paths that might lead him here. He’s not sure why, much like he’s never been able to determine the meaning of the mark on his wrist, but there’s something grounding and settling about being _here_ that sends his mind reeling with anxious anticipation. The feeling that he belongs here, where his shadow uncoils and preens; where Yuuri understands the meaning of his name; and, where he is given trust unencumbered by boundaries, is unshakeable.

“Well, what should we prepare for Yuuri’s dinner?” he asks the poodles. Vicchan licks his hand in encouragement. It works. Viktor is certainly inspired to do his best. “Let’s do our best to make this place homier for Yuuri, okay, doggies?”

.

“Who the hell are you?”

Viktor jumps when he hears keys set on the kitchen counter. He’s been so focused on following a recipe found on the refrigerator that he completely ignores someone entering the home. This visitor is dressed in an impeccable black suit and skinny black tie, and Viktor can objectively admit that they are attractive, if not a little sour-looking wit the scowl on their face.

“I—I’m Viktor,” he introduces himself rapidly, turning off the stove quickly. Viktor wipes his hands on his apron, watching as the newcomer gives him a judgmental onceover. “Do you work with Yuuri?”

“Work is a way of putting it. I’m Minthe,” he says, deadpan, and shrugs off his blazer to dump it on the nearest kitchen island stool. When he realizes Viktor still seems unable to recognize him, he adds, “I preside over the River Cocytus? I used to _live_ here? Let me guess. You must be the new maid. I tell him years that he should get one; I leave, and he immediately gets one. Figures.”

“I’m Kore,” Viktor offers, confused. He’s not sure why they’re giving their official names. Suddenly, he feels a little self-conscious that he’s probably not looking very presentable. “And, not exactly, although I guess my job is to clean. For now.”

“Kore, as in—has he lost his damn mind? As in, your mother is—”

Viktor turns the stove back on and nods, “Demeter. Yes.”

“Don’t you have more money than all the kingdoms on Earth combined? Why would you even work, and cleaning up after him at that? —Ugh, do you always glow so bright? It’s giving me a migraine.”

Viktor shrugs, “My mom has more money than all the kingdoms on Earth combined. _I_ have normal amounts of money only good in Olympus. Glowing is kind of part of being a god, isn’t it? Although here it’s pretty tempered down for me.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Minthe responds, “I’m a nymph.”

It’s a sensitive topic, that of gods and nymphs and the hierarchy of existence, which probably means Minthe thinks Viktor is rubbing it in. He’s not. Nothing could be further from the truth. But Viktor is curious. He remembers hearing about _that nymph_ that night (Yuuri’s nymph), now so long ago. However, he’d never stopped to truly process, much less consider that Yuuri—the Lord of a Realm—would have dated a nymph, perhaps even cohabitated with one. Somehow, it makes Viktor think more highly of Yuuri. He’s not the type to get hung up on hierarchy or stand on ceremony. It’s strangely attractive to confirm Yuuri is _that_ comfortable with his power. He doesn’t need the rituals of division to remind him that he is important. And he is.

“Would you like some tea, Minthe?” Viktor aims for politeness, almost as an apology.

“No,” Minthe purses his lips, “You can stop edifying me. Call me Seung-Gil. I’m sure that’s more palatable to an Olympian god.”

“Okay, Seung-Gil,” Viktor beams. He returns to his flour bowl. “I’m making this thing called kat—kat-su-don. I found the recipe on the fridge. Are you staying for dinner? There’s lots here.”

“Are you always this cheerful?” he sounds almost disgusted. Viktor does try to keep a good attitude at all times, at least with strangers. It wouldn’t do him any favors to go around pissing people off, or giving the impression that he is impolite or uncaring. He has a reputation to maintain. Sulking is more a private sport. “I wouldn’t have pegged Yuuri for the kind to prefer the company of flower maidens.”

Viktor can’t deny he feels insulted being called a flower maiden. He must look provincial with his hair in a braid and the frilly apron around his waist—and the flour on his cheek, at least compared to chic Minthe dressed impeccably in a freshly pressed suit. Viktor looks down at his sweatpants and t-shirt, borrowed from Yuuri’s ‘to donate’ pile, which he still has to set outside for pick-up. But just because Viktor doesn’t look the part of a child of Zeus doesn’t mean he isn’t, in fact, the son of Zeus.

“Should I or should I not fry you a pork cutlet, Seung-Gil? It’s a simple question,” Viktor responds, a throbbing twitch above his right eye. He maintains an effortless, vast smile, albeit strained.

“I’ll just go ahead and grab the rest of my things now. Do you know where my stuff is?”

Viktor shakes his head, “Yuuri left a big pile of trash in one of the guest bedrooms. I was told to donate it. Maybe it’s in there? I’m sure Makkachin can escort you, right, good boy?”

“I’m sure I can find it on my own, thanks,” Seung-Gil responds, already walking out of the kitchen.

Viktor takes advantage to grab the keys from the counter and dump them into his apron: “If he doesn’t live here anymore, no reason for him to have these,” he tells the poodles, who seem unperturbed. Vicchan makes his way to his water bowl. It’s petty, and maybe unnecessary, but Yuuri doesn’t need negative people in his life. Viktor is just trying to help out his host. Surely that’s understandable. He pats the keys again.

The shadow wrapped around his wrist uncoils and stands up, much like an exclamation mark.

“What?” Viktor asks, feeling accused. “It’s true. I’m just going to make sure Yuuri gets these, that’s all.”

Makkachin barks, as if he means to protest.

“No pork cutlets for either of you if you tell the nymph, or Yuuri,” he sniffs, feeling a little self-conscious as he realizes he has batter on his hair.

.

Yuuri comes home to the sound of the shower in his bedroom and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. The dogs barely bother to greet him, too busy dozing off by the fireplace. Cerberus follows behind him, now back to normal size, and pounces to greet his siblings. Yuuri can’t remember the last time his house looked this spotless. It’s obvious Viktor has followed every point of his list with dedication, right down to polishing the furniture. He can’t imagine Viktor went out at all today, not with how much care he’s given to the residence. 

Yawning, Yuuri enters his bedroom and notices the silver robes he _loaned_ Viktor are on the bed, spread out to avoid wrinkles.

“Viktor?”

The shower turns off. A couple of seconds later, Viktor pokes his head out, hair still wet and dripping. When he spots Yuuri, he steps out with a wide smile: “Yuuri! Welcome home!” – and Yuuri almost splutters in disbelief that Viktor has dared to step out of the bathroom with the smallest towel possible barely holding together his modesty. It’s quite a change from the scared god that held onto tattered rags and covered his nipples with his hands. And Yuuri realizes that he, too, is probably much different now that they have started to become more familiar with each other. Having fun at the expense of Viktor’s uncertainty and innocence now feels cheap, given his retelling of Yuuri’s drunken proposition. Yuuri wants to be good or, at least, decent, but Viktor makes it hard with his soft hair and blue eyes and chiseled body, always pink and warm, as if tempting Yuuri to just _touch_. “Yuuri, could you hand me my robes, please? I didn’t think you’d be home already.”

Yuuri closes his eyes, blindly holding out the robes when Viktor’s towel slips even lower—and lower, yet, until it’s on the floor by his feet.

“What are you doing?” Viktor asks. “Yuuri? Oh sorry. I didn’t mean to flash you.”

Somehow, Yuuri isn’t convinced, not with how intentional dropping a towel would be under the circumstances.

“I thought you’d be okay with nudity,” Viktor says, voice amused as he slips on his robes. “You did tell me I could walk around naked.”

“If you didn’t want the robes,” Yuuri reminds him, giving Viktor his back. He wonders if Viktor has been walking around doing chores naked. It makes Yuuri feel strangely warm. “Context, Viktor.”

“I’ll remember from now on,” Viktor promises, biting his bottom lip. The shadow on his wrist laughs amused in a language only Yuuri can understand, and it makes him wonder what kind of game Viktor is attempting to play. “You’ll have to forgive me. I used to sleep naked most of my life in the human world. You can turn around now. I’m all dressed. Are you hungry? I cooked your dinner.”

“You cooked me dinner? I don’t remember that being in the list,” Yuuri murmurs to himself.

“It wasn’t,” Viktor nods, picking up the towel from the ground to take it back into the bathroom. “But I had quite a bit of free time, and figured a little overtime might be helpful for my first paycheck. I do need to pay back for these robes, and buy a few more incidentals. That, and I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider the robe repaid, then, and overtime paid, this time. Next time, though, perhaps you should ask,” Yuuri arches an eyebrow, walking out of the room. Viktor follows behind him, pouting. Somehow, it feels like even when he did well, Yuuri doesn’t seem wholly pleased.

“Yes, Yuuri,” he says, dragging his feet as he walks.

.

Viktor doesn’t know how to mention Minthe. He serves two bowls of food and watches as Yuuri’s eyes widen in amazement at Viktor’s handiwork. It leaves him feeling proud, but also anxious. He spreads a cloth napkin over Yuuri’s lap and serves some water on iced glasses before sitting down.

“You realize gods don’t need to eat.”

“Need and want are two very different things. Don’t you just eat for enjoyment? – Don’t you do anything just because it feels good?” Viktor asks. He imagines Yuuri doesn’t do much for the sake of just _doing_ , not with the way he seems to have very specific rules and expectations for everything—and an intense interest in keeping his personal space bulwarked from the trespassing of even regular staff. “What?”

“You shouldn’t eat that,” Yuuri tells him.

Viktor frowns, “why not? Ah, don’t tell me: Eating food from the Underworld will keep me trapped here?”

“Nope. That’s just some weird urban myth. But, food from here will make you very sick, son of Zeus and Demeter. You’re not used to it,” Yuuri punctuates his parents’ names with some amusement. As if to tempt him, Yuuri takes a bite out of his food, savoring it loudly. “It’s good.”

“How mean, Yuuri,” Viktor pouts. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Suit yourself. But I warned you.”

Viktor eyes the bowl wearily before finally pushing it away. Yuuri looks pleased with his obedience, or at least his self-preservation. Under normal circumstances, Viktor would have taken his chances. Considering he would like Yuuri to consider him _attractive_ at all times, he’s not willing to risk what little charm he has by suddenly becoming that one provincial god that threw up all night in the fancy home of the Lord of a Realm. 

“Will you at least bring me food from above?” Viktor asks, batting his long lashes. He still has beauty on his side, if not fashion and sophistication.

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, “Now, why would I do that? Gods don’t need to eat, Viktor.”

“But I would _like_ to eat, Yuuri,” Viktor tells him.

“A little self-abnegation will be good for you. It builds character to delay gratification. In fact, I’m sure you’ll find that a little austerity in the moment makes for heightened pleasure during later indulgences. I’m sure you’ll learn.”

Viktor’s shadow seems intrigued by this concept, rushing from Viktor’s wrist to his shoulder to chirp at Yuuri, who seems to consider whatever it is his shadow has said with immeasurable interest. Viktor has very seldom heard his shadow make any sounds, or so boldly move in reaction to anything. Years of being ignored and chastised have left his other name coiling on the ground and dragging in shame. A few days in the Underworld, and it seems like Viktor’s shadow is ready to rebel.

“It gets it,” Yuuri says, like Viktor’s shadow has said something immeasurably wise. “You get it,” Yuuri speaks directly to Viktor’s shadow, which seems to preen under the praise.

“I’m not sure I do. For years I’ve been denied a life,” Viktor scoffs, raising his wrist in defiance. “It sure hasn’t made me feel any more pleasure, only less.”

Yuuri dabs at his lips with a napkin, “That’s different. Discipline is different from castigation. In fact, seldom does a show of strong discipline beget punishment. That should earn you a reward. Don’t confuse the two. Your mother’s attempts at controlling your life seek to take freedom from you by force. I am inviting you to exert control over your own impulses to help you better appreciate your own freedom.”

The shadow chirps again, leaving Viktor feeling strangely betrayed.

“You get it,” Yuuri nods sagely, and Viktor’s shadow shimmies, pleased by the acknowledgement. “Your shadow gets it.”

.

Obedience isn’t getting Viktor anywhere—not where he wants to get anyway, which is preferably under or on top of Hades, somewhere lost between hazy pleasure and heated sex. He’s curled up in bed when Yuuri walks out from the bathroom, hair drying and a few droplets of water sliding down his neck. Something about him looks soft like this, and it invigorates Viktor’s efforts.

“Won’t you share the bed, Yuuri?” he tries to seem inviting.

“The guest room is fine for me,” Yuuri says, not even affected as he grabs his books and glasses from the bedside table. Viktor sits up. “You should go to sleep now. Do you need anything before I go?”

Viktor shakes his head, disappointed.

“Have you decided how long I’ll stay here?” he asks, trying to prolong Yuuri’s departure.

Yuuri sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’m not sure, Kore. But I promise it won’t be long. In the meanwhile, maybe stick to the list and use your time wisely to explore the rest of the realm. You might find time goes faster that way, and maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Hm. I don’t know if that’s a good idea, not if everyone here is like the nymph that came by today.”

“What nymph?”

Viktor shrugs, “Minthe? Did I forget to mention it? I’m sorry. He came to take some stuff with him. Left behind keys. I’ll go get them for you. I left them on your desk.”

“No need,” Yuuri huffs, running a shaky hand though his hair. “Did he treat you poorly?”

“Well, I think he thought I was a maid,” Viktor shrugs, taking advantage to lay his head on Yuuri’s thigh. He lets his hair pool like a blanket over Yuuri’s lap as he looks up with big eyes. “I can’t blame him. I was dirty from cleaning and cooking.”

“I didn’t ask you to cook, remember?”

Viktor nods, voice soft as he yawns and closes his eyes, “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me, Viktor,” Yuuri explains, fingers flexing as he keeps from running his fingers through the enticing strands of blond hair before him. It’s like watching spun silver.

Viktor is careful to only open one eye, before closing it tightly again. He tries to even out his breaths as he pretends to sleep: “I want to be nice to you,” he says unevenly and sloppy, slurring as if asleep and inching closer to the juncture of Yuuri’s inner thigh.

Yuuri blinks, surprised. He starts to move but finds that Viktor’s head is heavy on his lap.

“Viktor?” he tries to no avail. Yuuri slams his head against the wall. “You can’t really be asleep. Viktor. Come one. You promised you’d be obedient.”

“And you told me to sleep,” Viktor reminds him.

“That’s not the spirit of the law and you know it,” Yuuri chuckles, carefully moving Viktor to deposit him fully onto the bed.

Viktor peers up at him through long lashes, “It isn’t? I’m sorry, Yuuri. I’m just lonely; it’s still hard sleeping alone, even more so in an unfamiliar place. It took me a year getting comfortable sleeping alone. For a long time, I used to sneak into Sara’s room. Won’t you share the bed with me, please?”

Yuuri sighs, defeated as he nods, motioning for Viktor to make space as he slips under the covers.

“Thank you,” Viktor whispers.

“Go to sleep,” Yuuri orders, gruff as he turns on his side. “I’m only doing this tonight because you did such a good job following instructions for the house.”

**TBC**


	6. Part VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a comments slut, so make me write faster by leaving your comments. And come remind me to update on Twitter @CMFWritings and on Tumblr at cuttlemefishwrites.

**VII. Kore**

Hades sleeps with a depth that belongs only to the dead, which is rather fitting and surprisingly adorable.

Viktor stays still as he stares up at the ceiling again and takes small, sneaky peeks at Yuuri, whose face is smushed on a pillow and strands of Viktor’s hair. His arm remains steadfast and protective around Viktor’s waist. When Viktor feels him stir, he closes his eyes, trying to even out his breath in pretend sleep. Yuuri hums, and Viktor fears he’s about to remove his arm—until Yuuri simply shuffles closer in mid-sleep and rests his nose against Viktor’s neck. Something much like giddiness bubbles in Viktor’s stomach and rumbles in his chest at the feeling of Yuuri’s breathe fanning against his skin. _If only this could last forever_ , he thinks dreamily and considers forcing himself to sleep again. _I wish he’d stay by my side always._

Of course, nothing could ever be so easy for Viktor.

On his wrist, Viktor’s shadow chirps, and Viktor glares, shushing it quickly.

“What…” Yuuri groans, pulling his head back as he wakes. His arm is tugged away from where it has lied over Viktor’s stomach all morning, and the simple movement suddenly pulls Viktor’s weight to flop right over Yuuri’s chest and stomach. Yuuri tries to sit up immediately. Finding he can’t move with Viktor’s weight on top of him, he raises his hand just a slight. “What are you doing?” he asks, voice raspy.

“I—I’m not doing anything,” Viktor explains, looking down at how his shadow has cuffed their wrists together. Even as he pokes at his shadow to command it to let go, he feels something has changed in its essence. It’s suddenly grown hard, very different from its usual gel-like texture. “What is it saying?”

Yuuri huffs, staring up at the ceiling, and Viktor realizes he’s still half-asleep: “Nonsense. It’s babbling. Let go now.”

“I can’t!” Viktor squeaks.

“Not you, the shadow.”

“Oh,” Viktor nods sagely, moving to sit on his legs. As he moves, he brings Yuuri’s hand with him. It’s an uncomfortable position.

Yuuri seems surprised, hair a tumbled mess on his head: “How did it even pick that hand?”

“Well, I—I think you had your arm around me, and I guess my hand was close and this happened,” Viktor shrugs, trying not to blush. He can feel his whole body warm up as Yuuri centers all his attention on him, and only a soft breeze alerts him to the fact that he’s not wearing his sleeping clothes. His cheeks color pink as he realizes this, wondering if Yuuri is still too bogged down by the remainders of sleep to realize it. “So really, this is your fault, Yuuri. You should take responsibility.”

“You’re the one that _begged_ me to sleep here because you can’t seem to sleep alone like a normal adult god,” Yuuri frowns. He rubs at his face with his free hand. “Tell it to let go.”

“It doesn’t listen to me,” Viktor reminds him. “It does what it wants. And I think it’s looking sick.”

“Sick how?”

“Touch it, Yuuri,” Viktor pouts before looking at Yuuri through long lashes, “it’s just so _hard_.”

Instinctively, it’s easy to understand from context that Viktor means the shadow around their wrists. However, considering somewhere in the middle of the night, Viktor seems to have discarded his clothes and is now carelessly sporting a morning erection (and Yuuri is only now beginning to feel the fog of sleep disperse), the statement sends him into a minor, unexpected fit of laughter. Yuuri chokes on his own saliva, coughing several times before regaining his composure. Viktor worries and tries to check on Yuuri, but their position makes it difficult, with Yuuri’s hand being pulled by the movements. Each tug seems to constrict them all the more.

Once he’s recovered, he says, “Don’t say things like that so innocently. Let me see here. It’s very tense, and very hard, indeed, like a rock, and seems to be getting harder by the minute. Stop moving.”

“Maybe it’s like one of those puzzles where the more you pull, the more it traps you?”

Yuuri nods, “A very insightful comment, actually, Kore. Speaking of insightful, can you enlighten me as to why you’re without your nightdress?”

“Oh,” Viktor seems to immediately realize he’s almost naked, again. With a shrug and a small smile, he says, “I don’t know. I had it on last night when we went to bed. Maybe you took it off me during the night because I was hot? Maybe that’s why the shadow pinned you to me! It was trying to punish you for trying to get cheeky, Yuuri.”

“Why would I do that?” Yuuri arches an eyebrow. “Maybe _you_ took it off _yourself_ because you were running warm because this bed is too small for more than one person?”

Viktor shrugs, “Maybe. I don’t remember, but I can’t put it on right now anyway. My hand is occupied.”

“Alright, so all we know so far is that your shadow linked our wrists together while we were sleeping—”

“Your arm was already around me when it linked us together,” Viktor frowns, upset by the implication that Viktor would need his shadow to charm Yuuri.

“How do you know that?”

Viktor worries at his bottom lip, “Maybe I was a little bit awake and didn’t alert you about it. But I swear that I saw it had cuffed us together at the same time as you, Yuuri. Promise.”

Yuuri stays quiet for a long moment. His eyes dark, brown eyes peer straight through their wrists, as if trying to re-assess the shadow. As it turned harder and harder, the shadow had stopped communicating, yet Yuuri seemed entirely focused on their wrists, humming in understanding as if speaking to an old friend. Viktor jumps when Yuuri’s attention snaps back to him. _Maybe he’s upset with me?_ he thinks, unable to read Yuuri’s face.

“Kore,” Yuuri smirks, leaning forward, “did you _wish_ for something?”

“No?” Viktor responds cautiously.

He gasps when Yuuri pushes him down onto the bed, trapping him underneath his body: “Are you sure?”

In this position, with Viktor’s hands by his hands and Yuuri’s arms and legs strapping him to the bed, his wrist no longer protests with the resistance of being pulled and tugged in different directions and in uncomfortable positions.

“I—I’m very sure?”

 _Wait_ , he considers the question slowly, and then gasps, eyes wide. Viktor can feel the binding loosening only a slight. _Oh no. I couldn’t have wished for this, right? Well, certainly **this** , but not this—everything._

Yuuri grins, “There it is! What did you wish for, Kore?”

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I think I wished for you to keep holding me for a while,” Viktor whispers, face red with shame. “I just wanted you close, but I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Your shadow is an extension of you. It may not always follow your instructions directly, probably because it has a different essence from your own, something more repressed and basic, like instinct and desire. I think to get free, we’re going to need to give it what it wants.”

“Like, what I wished for?” Viktor panics. “Because I might have accidentally wished for you to be close me always.”

“Is that right? I ought to spank you for being so greedy, little god.”

Viktor’s breath hitches at the threat, and he gulps hard. His wrist begins to feel looser again, and his eyes flicker to the cuffs around them, watching as his shadow slowly mellows into something more like hard rubber than rock. Yuuri follows the trail of his eyes and seems to consider the results before he turns to focus on Viktor once more: “Do you actually _want_ to be spanked, Viktor?”

The words hit Viktor like a bucket of ice water. It’s obvious before Yuuri had been testing his buttons in his usual way, but using his name with the same tone of confusion that Viktor could feel pulsating through his ears was a strange revelation.

“I don’t know,” Viktor whispers, nervous. Curious, he asks, “W—would it be a hard spank or, like, a soft tap?”

Yuuri looks at the cuff over their wrists as he says, “Well, I don’t know, Viktor. You’ve been quite bad. I think you deserve a hard spanking, something that leaves your bottom as pink as that blush over your nose. Don’t you think that would be fair for all the inconvenience you caused this morning, greedy little god?”

Viktor gasps, feeling warmth spread in his stomach. His erection strains harder against his underwear. The binding loosens even more, and both turn to stare at their wrists.

Yuuri chuckles: “Oh my, Kore. You actually want that.”

“I—I suppose maybe I’m just a little curious,” Viktor admits. “Would you use your hand?”

“I could. Or I could use a paddle,” Yuuri explains, and realizes then Viktor has tensed up. He changes the subject quickly, more interested in freeing his wrist than reality. “You don’t like that idea, huh? Viktor, think about the ropes, or maybe silks, something soft yet tight around your wrists.”

Viktor stares at Yuuri mesmerized, lips parting softly but Yuuri doesn’t bother to look. His eyes are centered on the way the shadow around their wrists responds to his words and begins to soften and change, until it seems to be back to normal: “I’d have to put you over my lap. I would say unconscious greed is probably not too egregious, but for the inconvenience, you’d have to take about seven spanks. It will burn, but you’ll need to count them off for me out loud, one by one. They’ll be hard enough that you might rut against my lap, but you’ll have to behave Viktor…”

“Why?” Viktor gasps, trying to follow the line of Yuuri’s lips with his own when they’re finally facing each other. Inches apart feel like lifetimes.

“Because it’s punishment, Kore. However, if that’s punishment, what might the reward be?”

Viktor doesn’t need be told. His eyes widen as he lets out a small, surprised gasp, and feels the twitch of his own dick as it sets a wet stain over the front of his underwear. The shadow finally untangles and retracts back only to his wrist, and with a triumphant smile, Yuuri pulls back.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, sitting next to Viktor. Yuuri is careful that they shouldn’t touch, but stays within a respectful distance to make sure he’s okay. Viktor can only look down with slight embarrassment as his chest inks pink. “I think that took you by surprise.”

“I didn’t touch myself, I swear.”

“I know, Viktor. It’s okay, just your imagination helping you along. You were already pretty aroused before this, and I am really sorry I didn’t tell you explicitly what I was doing. I just wanted to get the shadow to let go, but your wish seemed quite unrealistic.”

The shadow chirps, sounding almost angry.

Yuuri chuckles, “Cheeky.”

“What does it say?” Viktor tries to even his breath.

“I’ll get you some water and a washcloth. Stay here, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor tries again, “what did my shadow say?”

.

Yuuri is grateful that he has clothes in his gym bag. He changes quickly into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in his home office, and then takes a moment to rest against the desk to think. Vicchan woofs from his bed, and Yuuri kneels down to scratch behind his ears: “Where is Makkachin, huh buddy? She’s probably sniffing for food already. It’s already late. Cerberus has probably already left for patrol. Come along.”

He doesn’t want to think about Kore, but it’s difficult to keep his thoughts from wandering. With dog food on hand and two dogs trailing behind him, he adds a bottle of water and some wet wipes to the packages in his arms and heads back. When he returns, Viktor is already in his nightgown and starting the process of braiding his hair. The soiled underwear stays on his lap, and he considers it with worry.

“Hey, here’s some water. You want to borrow more clothes?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever pay you back if you keep lending me things,” Viktor sighs. “And don’t you dare say I earned them now. Not after _that_. That was embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yuuri promises. “But I do owe you some overtime.”

“I think with that I can pay you for the nightgown,” Viktor pouts. He counts in his head, groaning as he drags himself to the bathroom to start washing his underwear. It was fine to do it when he was alone and Yuuri wasn’t home—and even if he was home, not wearing underwear seemed like a fun little secret, but this was humiliating. “Can I do more overtime today, Yuuri? Please?”

“Why don’t you just accept them as gifts, Viktor?” Yuuri sets the food bowls down for the dogs, but Makkachin and Vicchan have already ignored it altogether to check on their new friend.

Viktor rubs at his wrist and the words branded there, bubbles soaping up his arms: “You know precisely why.”

“You realize your mother would never know.”

“But I would know,” Viktor sighs. “Your phone has been ringing.”

Yuuri jumps then, stumbling to grab his cellphone. Viktor smiles to himself. It’s one of the few times Yuuri hasn’t seemed graceful.

“Hello? Sorry, Phichit, I overslept. I’ll be there soon. What type of emergency?”

Viktor’s ears prick up at the sound of the word and he exchanges looks with the dogs. He kneels down to point them in the direction of food.

“Got it. On my way.”

“Is everything alright?”

Yuuri shakes his head: “Your mother is killing the human population at a rate unparallel to any we’ve seen before. Nothing new. My team can’t keep up with the uptick in intake, not to mention that while I am not dependent on living humans to survive, my business does thrive when there are _humans_ , period. For now, I just need to fix this intake issue, but I’ll have to meet with Yakov to understand his plans, and depending on what they are, I might need to call Aphrodite to speak truth to reason.”

“W—why is she doing that?”

“Why do you think?” Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“T—then maybe I should go back,” Viktor nods quickly.

Yuuri nods, “I’ll do my best, Kore.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers before he leaves. Hades turns to face him with an unreadable look on his face, and Viktor feels himself grow timid, “I wouldn’t tell anyone your secret. If it was me. You can always trust me, okay?”

“I know, Kore. Thanks.”

.

There are multiple crises when Yuuri gets to work. The intake issue is but a minor inconvenience. There’s plenty of people looking for employment, and they have that resolved by lunchtime. The real problem are the trees—strong, green, noble trees with heavy pomegranates hanging off them have resurfaced in the forbidden gardens, towering and replacing many of the dead weeds previously in their places. Hecate examines them with concern: “We haven’t been able to bring back the pomegranates in a very long time. Centuries.”

Yuuri knows that. He’s been around long enough to know that. It’s been a concern of Hecate’s for a long time: The pomegranates are foretold to be part of the rite of marriage undergone by the King of the Underworld. Seeing as Yuuri is immortal, the lack of pomegranates had been assumed to mean he was to remain unmarried and detached, but then the Moirai had given Yuuri a very different fate. Figures the Underworld would finally signal the future coming of a Consort when Yuuri was too busy entertaining the God of Spring in his home.

 _What if my intended gets upset and leaves?_ He rubs at his forehead to ward off an oncoming migraine.

“One minute I was coming to collect my usual herbs and the next they just appeared here. Fully grown and healthy, with no sign of decay at all. I was afraid we’d need to collect them quickly, but the pomegranates return just as fast as we pluck them with no sign of receding.”

“This isn’t exactly a problem,” Yuuri reminds her. “Maybe the rapid rise in dead souls has triggered something in the soil and helped them bloom?”

“Pomegranates in the forbidden forest are a sign of strong fertility and a clamor for great power and beauty,” Minako reminds him, raising an expectant eyebrow. “You know well what this means.”

“But is it a _problem_?”

“Your intended is here, somewhere in the Underworld. We must find them at once,” Minako reminds him with a huff. “In fact, I am surprised that Cerberus here didn’t sense them in the first place, which concerns me all the more—”

“Y—you think they’re already dead?” Yuuri sputters, “But the Moirai said I will destroy my intended—”

Minako rolls her eyes, “Yuuri, no, of course they’re not dead, but I do worry that they might be in poor shape. Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, come now. Think about it. I know you’re smart. Demeter has lost her precious child, and we seem to have an intruder in the Underworld—or so these delicious pomegranates tell us. Viktor must be here somewhere, likely hiding, perhaps scared. Who knows why he has sought refuge in the Underworld...”

Yuuri coughs, surprised, “You mean Kore?!”

“Well, yes. Now, Yuuri, I know you haven’t really met Kore, but he’s a lovely, sweet young man.”

“You’re wrong, Hecate. Why would you ever think it would be Kore?”

Minako purses her lips, sighing as she pulls Yuuri by the hand and entreats him to sit with her on the ground beneath the shade of one of the trees: “Demeter is a friend of sorts. When Viktor was very young, she took him to the Moirai as is customary for all young gods now. She told me that when the Moirai greet Viktor, they welcomed him by calling him _Consort of Aidoneus_. It’s why Lilia keeps such a close eye on Viktor. His destiny was always to wed, even when she has always hoped he’d remain pure.”

Yuuri considers Minako’s words carefully, feeling sick as he pieces things together. He whispers to himself, “Beware of gods bearing gifts.”

“What?” Minako asks him.

“She branded him because she didn’t want him to accept wedding rites,” Yuuri repeats to himself. “She doesn’t care about actual gifts. She branded him so he would never marry willingly. And of course, Yakov would give his permission for courtship, then. This was always his fate. Damn Aphrodite.”

“Yuuri, you’re not making any sense.”

“Minako,” Yuuri worries at his bottom lip, “I need your help. But I also need your discretion.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins!!!


	7. Part VIII

**Part VIII.** **Hecate**

Yuuri had long given up on the idea of a consort. Enough years alone had taught him to value his privacy and cherish his freedom. Now faced with the news that he had kidnapped his own intended, he felt a strange sense of destabilizing panic—the like he hadn’t felt in ages. The anxiety thrummed throughout his body as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. Minako watched him quietly: “Let me get this straight. You want me to take Viktor to my house?”

That in itself didn’t sound particularly difficult—as far as Yuuri’s requests went anyway. A part of him did feel a pang of disappointment at having to let go of his new resident so soon. Despite all his grouching, coming home to a warm meal beat takeout or eternal, deathless starvation any day. Even when he didn’t need to eat, Yuuri liked to do it. He just seemed incapable of taking care of himself.

“Yes.”

“And not tell his mother where he is right now?”

It wasn’t odd Yuuri wouldn’t want Demeter to know Viktor was in the Underworld, not with the way she had taken to filling everything with frigid ice. His realm was cold enough. He didn’t need Demeter coming down to his territory with the wrath of winter.

“That’s right.”

“Because you made a promise to Aphrodite?” 

Yuuri nods, “I told you it wasn’t complicated, just requiring of discretion.”

The promise to Aphrodite was now the least of it. For the last many years, Viktor had been kept completely in the dark about his own destiny. He’d been deceived into fearing any potential sign of unhuman warmth and kindness, told to keep his hands and his wants to himself—to the point where he’d wandered recklessly into the spaces controlled by men, where his existence had to be shrouded in secrecy. The last thing Yuuri wanted to do was to exchange the shackles of fear for the ones of destiny.

“But we are going to tell him about the Fates’ prediction, right?”

Yuuri shakes his head, nervously staring at his phone, “We are… not. We’re not going to tell him. Anything. At all.”

Minako frowns, saying his name in _that_ one particular way that makes his whole-body cringe with shame, ever since he was a little child: “ _Yuuri_.” – But Yuuri is no longer a child. He’s an adult, and a King, and he can technically order anyone in his realm to follow his instructions. Hecate is often an exception, but not this time—not when it comes to Viktor, who is soft, kind, and innocent to distraction.

“You have your instructions,” Yuuri says as the car rolls to a stop in his driveway. He reaches over to open Minako’s door. “Take care of it and report back at headquarters.”

.

All things considered, Minako understand the concept of _allegiance_ , but, frankly, after seeing Yuuri alone for several hundreds of years, the definition begins to take a few twists and turns in her mind. Having just been kicked out of a car and asked to clean up Yuuri’s mess, though, has her mind defining the term a little bit more like: _Fuck that._ Hecate has never been one for following orders. She is the Goddess of Crossroads, among several other things, and seeing as Yuuri refuses to pick _one_ direction—the _right_ direction towards unconditional love—she will simply have to shove him headfirst into Viktor’s arms. _It’ll be fine,_ she thinks, _he’ll thank me later._

It shouldn’t be too difficult, considering the God of Growing Things seems exceptionally proud of his current duties as pretend househusband. She closes the door behind her, making sure the sound is loud enough to call attention to the living room.

“Yuuri?” Viktor comes running into the living room, wearing an adorable apron and a messy bun. The poodles run right behind him. “You’re home? I’m so happy! I made you a pie! Oh.”

Minako gives Viktor a small wave, surprised to see him so unassuming. Even in the mortal realm, Viktor had shown a streak of mild vanity that resulted in well-oiled hair and expensive tunics. In Olympus, he was always dressed in equally expensive brands. Seeing him here felt surreal, like meeting with the maid.

“Hecate!” Viktor beams, pushing a strand of loose hair around his ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Yuuri sent me. He said you need a place to stay temporarily,” her voice shakes a little. _Maybe I should take you to my house_. “I’m here to take you over to my place.”

“He said that?” Viktor deflates immediately. His shadow seems equally intrigued, chirping loud and demanding answers. Viktor pokes his shadow, quieting it instantly. “Stop it. It was probably because of you in the first place. Did he say why he wants me out? We had an agreement, and I thought I was doing a good job. If I leave now, I’ll never be able to pay him back.”

“What do you mean?”

Viktor sighs, sitting down on the nearest sofa. Makkachin jumps next to him, sniffing his side.

“Yuuri lent me clothing and money to buy things while I’m here, but I seem to pay him and then accrue more debt as I go, which isn’t all that terrible. I enjoy being here. It beats being alone in my apartment back in Olympus, but figures he probably gave me a lot of overtime today and paid himself back and now he has no need for me because of my pesky shadow…”

Minako frowns, “wait, he hired you?”

Viktor nods.

“And you don’t want to leave your job.”

“Well, I guess not. Not if I haven’t paid my debt.”

Minako grins, pulling out her business card from mid-air to hand it over: “Well, _this_ changes everything! Viktor, let me introduce myself properly: In addition to my many, many jobs as a Goddess, I’m also Yuuri’s human resources officer down here. I’m obviously late in meeting his newest employee, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t inform you of your rights.” 

“My rights?”

Minako nods, smile gleaming even whiter as she magically pulls out a giant binder.

“Yes, your rights. But first let me start with the benefits package, shall I?”

Viktor’s shadow chirps in triumph, and Viktor simply reaches for Vicchan to put the small dog on his lap.

.

It’s been a couple of hours and Yuuri can’t focus. He’s dozing off, lost as his eyes glaze over his computer screen, when his door slams open and the veritable juxtaposition that is Phichit—the most alive person he knows, for being God of Death—twirls into his office in an expensive velvet blue suit.

“I can’t believe he’s here and you haven’t told me a thing!” Phichit slams his hands on Yuuri’s desk.

Yuuri doesn’t even flinch, typing away at his computer at the first sign of noise. Viktor had warned him he’d seen Seung-Gil, who couldn’t seem to keep his mouth closed when he wanted to complain about Yuuri—and that was anytime they broke up (like now). Phichit waits silently, eyes boring onto Yuuri.

“I see you had a chat with Seung-Gil,” Yuuri quirks an eyebrow. He doesn’t intend it to be a question, but his voice ticks off at the end in a way that annoys him.

“No, but holy shit, you do have someone here! I knew it! Why didn’t you say anything before, huh? I thought I was the royal bestie,” Phichit whines, flopping on the seat in front of Yuuri’s desk. Royal Bestie is not a title, not anywhere in Yuuri’s flawless human resources plans, but Phichit is always an exception.

“You are, and it gets you plenty of perks, starting with every new generation phone we release into the market. I also turn a blind eye to all the _alive_ hamsters you’ve smuggled into my realm.”

“Gasp! Blasphemy, you love my children.”

Yuuri shakes his head, “I really don’t. Not when they’re alive and earn me infractions from Demeter, who _really_ , really hates me. Like a lot. And does not appreciate the fact that hamsters are small and realistically could accidentally make their way down here, if not for my giant, wonderful, good boy of a hound that should easily sniff them out and throw them back up for her nymphs to track better.”

“She’s so petty. I’ve only taken, like, ten or twenty hamsters. She’s got thousands!”

“Not the point and—twenty? When did we go from three to twenty?”

Phichit beams, “They’ve got amazing variety. Don’t worry. You’ll love them during the next Secular Games. I’m taking the next hundred years to train them to perform a cute little dance of worship for you!”

“Hamsters don’t live that long. Actually, I don’t want to know what you’ve plotted to make them live that long. The less I know, the better. But any more hamster abductions and I’m billing you,” Yuuri sighs, rubbing his forehead as he tries to focus on his daily accounting. His eyes twitch when he spots the currency exchange costs from the last hamster abduction, and that was when they were only up to six.

“So, you’re not going to tell me about her?”

“What her?” Yuuri murmurs.

Phichit squeals, “So it’s a him?”

“I’m not telling you anything. As it is, two people knowing are two too many until I figure out where to keep him. I’m not adding you to the list of people.”

“It’s a him!” Phichit clasps his hands together, grinning. “Fine, I don’t need to see him, but you have to give me something. Is he cute? Is he a God? Oh my god, did you bring a human in here? Is that why the garden has gone all weird? Is that why you have a lunchbox today?”

“Yes, yes, and no. And I have a lunchbox?”

Phichit points a finger at the bag on Yuuri’s desk. Right, the bag Yuuri has been carrying around today—the bag Viktor gave him while wearing Yuuri’s robe.

“I forgot about that. I don’t even know when he had time to make me food,” Yuuri whispers, reaching for the bag reverently. He unfolds the bag slowly, letting it fall around the Tupperware container. Inside is a sandwich and some fruit. “He cut my apple slices like poodles.”

“Aww, cute,” Phichit steals one. “It definitely has that done with love taste.”

Yuuri considers Phichit’s words for a moment: Done with love. He can’t remember the last time anyone did anything with some modicum of affection for him. Not even Seung-Gil had bothered. The most loving thing he’d ever done was offer to take in Yuuri’s dogs if anything ever happened to him, but that had felt less about Yuuri and so much more about Seung-Gil’s natural love of dogs. He’s interrupted by the blaring sound of his desk phone, and he picks up blindly. On the other side of the line, Seung-gil barks at him that Hecate is waiting to see him.

“Let her in.”

“I already let myself in, thanks,” Minako sniffs, appearing in Yuuri’s office with that tick in her forehead that reminds Yuuri that he is currently persona non grata in her books. Phichit turns to give her a happy wave. “Oh good. Phichit is here. Maybe he can help me talk you out of doing something stupid.”

“It’s not stupid—”

“—What did he do?” Phichit interrupts, glee clear in his eyes. “Is this about… _him_?”

“Why are we speaking in riddles? Yes, of course this is about Viktor,” Hecate waves them both off.

Yuuri groans, hiding his face in his palms, “Seriously? I thought we talked about discretion.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did Phichit not know already? Seung-Gil knew. I guess now the entire crew is covered, so I can just bring him in here to figure out some solution to this mess, yes?”

“Viktor is here?”

Phichit grins, “ _He_ is here? Finally! How long have you been waiting for your intended exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri shrugs, worrying at his bottom lip, “some many hundreds of years? Who is counting, really?”

“So he _is_ your intended!” Phichit laughs.

“Stop that!” Yuuri squeaks, “I did not say Viktor was my intended. Now, can we just stick to the original plan?”

Minako crosses her arms, “Okay, sure, but first you explain to that little god out there why you’re _firing_ him. Yuuri, you can’t just _hire_ people and then dismiss them without notice or cause. Did you forget verbal agreements are considered contractual obligations, just like written ones here? That’s what makes us better than Olympians. We adhere to our promises. We take commitments seriously. And that’s why I’m the head of HR. There’s implications to contracting people and _not_ paying them—”

“I do pay him! But he has a loan because of his mother’s rules!”

“Either way, you contracted this little god—and, being King, all you contract work for Underworld Corp—and he’s concerned he will now be out of a job and unable to pay you back for,” she pulls out her phone, eye twitching as she reads, “robes, fine toiletries, oils for his hair, should I keep reading?”

“Yes,” Phichit nods.

“No,” Yuuri pouts.

“Underwear? Yuuri, why are you buying him underwear? And the list is just quite ridiculous if you ask me. He’s charging himself for even water and electricity usage. I told him I’d talk you out of it, but he refuses to leave until he pays you back for every single penny, and he made sure to remind me with quite a charming little smile that he has no money worth anything here.”

“He didn’t have anything! And that’s silly. I didn’t charge him for any of that.”

Phichit whistles, low and steady, “Wow, the God of Growing Things is expensive.”

“Sounds to me like Viktor doesn’t want to pay back his debt, or leave your residence, so he’s tallied quite a significant bit of debt for himself,” Minako gripes, continuing to read the list on her phone. “Which is why you have to think before you loan out money for labor.”

“Geesh, Yuuri. Why didn’t you just help him go through the normal currency exchange avenues so he can move some liquid funds down here?”

Phichit is right. That’s exactly what Yuuri should’ve done under rational circumstances, but these aren’t normal circumstances. Viktor didn’t come willingly on vacation. He can’t exactly move around financial instruments, not unless Yuuri wants Lilia knocking down his door. Damn Aphrodite, always getting him into these types of messes.

“Can’t I just change his job requirements? Like, I’ll pay him to live with you for a set amount of time and then he can go on his way.”

“Sounds fine, but he likes his job, Yuuri.”

“Who are you working for? – You’re not helping me, Minako.”

Minako shrugs, “I’m HR. I’m here for the employees, not just my boss—although making sure you don’t get sued is a great big part of all the work I do. He likes his job, Yuuri. He would like to keep it.”

“He doesn’t have a job!” Yuuri feels like he’s going insane. His fingers run through his hair, pulling at the dark strands. “He runs errands. I come up with things for him to do for me while I shower.”

“Kinky,” Phichit says, reaching for a gray gradient Rubik’s cube from Yuuri’s desk.

“Not kinky. I literally have him do laundry and walk the dogs.”

“Well, you’re his boss. He needs to be dismissed properly, or his position needs to be amended, but I have to warn you that given his educational background and many talents, it’s really a very poor investment to keep him as a maid,” Minako states calmly. “I also don’t recommend a dismissal; he’s actually very good with numbers. But it’s really up to you. So, do your job, Yuuri.”

.

Viktor squirms in his seat right across from Yuuri and his desk. For all that Minako reassured him he was within his rights as an employee to negotiate his agreement, or receive an answer on his dismissal, Yuuri looks annoyed—and the room seems to become considerably chillier by the minute. Even his shadow seems to curl into itself. 

“Minako says you want a job?” Yuuri finally speaks.

“I already have one,” Viktor repeats, holding tight to the binder on his lap. “Minako said you were dismissing me, but I didn’t know why and she didn’t either. She said we needed to go through proper HR channels so here I am.”

“I could be dismissing you for cause. This morning would’ve been enough to get anyone fired.”

“Are you?”

Yuuri would be well within his right to fire him for that alone, but Viktor wants to believe Yuuri knows it wasn’t his fault. He’d been so kind about making him feel at ease after that Viktor can’t imagine he’d be so cruel now as to use it against him.

“No,” Yuuri scoffs, tapping a pen against his desk. “Viktor, why do you even want a job here? Or why do you want to keep this one, instead of, say, me paying you to sleep in and watch movies at Hecate’s place? It’d be more than enough to pay for the long list of things you claim you owe me.”

Viktor could tell Yuuri the truth. He could tell him about the way he’s never felt more alive than when he hears the front door click in the evenings and Yuuri walks in, looking beautiful and detached and exhausted, until he looks up and gives Viktor that small, soft smile that makes his knees buckle. Maybe Yuuri would understand even if he didn’t say _that_ , even if he just went off on some tangent about his shadow. Viktor has never been anywhere where his shadow seemed content and welcome. It’s a feeling that resembles the warmth of the sun on his skin after a long winter. But talking to Yuuri about his premature feelings is an impermanent solution to problem that threatens to swallow Viktor in its vastness.

The freedom Viktor has under Yuuri’s protection can only exist for as long as he remains _here._ His mother will never let him out of her sight after all of this. His shadow wraps tightly around Viktor’s hand, as if giving him a squeeze of support.

“B—because I’d like to claim asylum. Here. In your realm. I—I can’t go back up there, so I need to make a life down here. Please, help me.”

And broken pen pieces splatter over Yuuri’s desk, and the ink stains his hand blue.

**TBC**


	8. Part IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! This is where I remind you all again NOT to take this as strict adherence to Greek folklore and mythology. Remember I’m working with a small cast. As it is, I’ve said fuck it to matching the genders of the characters to their Greek counterparts, and now I’m about to the same with age and even occupations. This is NOT a request for a lesson on Greek mythology. THIS IS DONE ON PURPOSE. So, please don’t be that person that ruins it for everyone else in the comments, okay? :) This portion is small to add to the suspense of what happens next chapter...

**IX. The Three Judges of the Underworld**

The ink stains on Yuuri’s hand alerts him to the fact time has stopped. Splattering ink and pen pieces float in millisecond time in front of him, warping when faced with dead time.

The rules of sanctuary are divine and unalterable, even more so for a child of Olympus. It’s not as easy as simply accepting Viktor in his realm. Viktor is the God Growing Things. There is very little growing to do in the realm of the dead, where things whither to their natural and unnatural conclusion. Yuuri can almost guess that there will be a trial, and a decision must be rendered by Zeus himself as to where Viktor will end up. Being a king, Yuuri knows what he must do now.

He has limited time to act according to protocol, but regulations dictate that he has a very brief pause in time to consider the proposal before him. A proper request for asylum must be made to the king of a realm, but the request must be made in the official throne room, as a sign of a proper audience. Yuuri has some minutes at best to decide his next choice: He can either deny Viktor, and immediately return him to Olympus (or his mother), or he can accept and grant Viktor an audience during which they will ultimately negotiate Yuuri’s payment and Viktor’s options.

Viktor stays frozen still, lips flushed pink, and Yuuri wades through dead time then to make his way to the door, where Hecate and Thanatos stare at him with horror on the other side. Minthe remains frozen, holding onto the phone where he was probably yelling at someone to reschedule a meeting with Yuuri.

“I am so sorry. I had no idea he was going to do that,” Minako tries to apologize, but sits back down immediately the moment Yuuri’s furious gaze settles on her.

“And this is why when I give you orders I expect you to follow them! Now what am I supposed to do with an asylum case on my hands?”

Phichit reaches for Yuuri’s arm, tugging him to sit down, “You’re wasting time. It’s not really about what you want to do, so much as what you might need to do, or even be able to do. Let’s just go to legal first. Maybe they have an idea.”

“Good idea,” Minako nods. “I’ll stay here and watch over Viktor. I’ll try to keep time still for as long as I can.”

Phichit nods, “yeah, you do that. Come on Yuuri. It’ll make you feel better to see the little gothic dolls, too.”

.

In the Underworld, there are three judges that collectively sentence the souls of the dead according to their deeds in life. After years judging cases all on his own, Yuuri had been more than happy to hand over some of his workload. Under the rules set by King Hades, those that led virtuous and heroic lives were sent to the comfortable paradise of the Elysian Fields. Those who had committed crimes of evil were sent to Tartarus, where the titans remained as prisoners. Difficult cases and appeals could always be sent to Hades, but the large majority of human cases were seen by the three judges. And, acting as the three judges were Yuuri’s designated assistants: A set of teenage triplets with an eerie similarity that made them almost exact mirror images of each other.

“This was a lot less creepy when they were little,” Phichit comments to Yuuri. The three girls each sit in a large, black chair with spikes at the top bearing the skulls of humans. As judges, they wear collared black dresses with lace over their faces and crowns of silver and teardrop pearls on their heads. They’re Yuuri’s beloved nieces. “Back then, it was sort of cute, little Mary Jane shoes and tiny lace socks and all. Now, I can see why humans are terrified. Just look at their boots. Imagine teenagers deciding where you go.”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about. They’re adorable, and harmless,” Yuuri shrugs, pushing his thick, heavy cape aside as he walks forward.

“So _you_ say because they’re _your_ nieces,” Phichit whispers nervously, “I want to make it clear I still think that this is the greatest act of nepotism in the Underworld. Who is qualified to be a judge as a toddler, let alone three little girls?”

Yuuri waves him off: “Hi girls! Are your parents at home?”

“Uncle Yuuri!” three little voices say in unison.

The girls were the children of two Lampades—Yuuko and Takeshi—that had served Hecate faithfully and earned promotions from themselves. Now, they held lamps over the scrolls of the dead, filing and typing notes for their children to review and judge—or send to Yuuri for further action. Born from the flames of their torches, the girls were literal light in darkness, and been identified by the Fates as having the gift of sight, ability to see the present, the past, the future, and all that lurked in the surface dimensions of the complex emotions and wants of men.

“Are you here because of the incident with the Erinyes?” one of them asks, pushing her dark veil to show a happy, rosy face.

“Did you send the Erinyes out?” Phichit blanched. He’d never been much too fond of furies.

“It was deserved,” another one of the girls said, voice calm and steady. “Only insanity was a fit punishment.”

“Well done,” Yuuri smiles, much like a doting father. Phichit sputters out a mindless series of words, all ignored. Yuuri has a soft spot for his little nieces. He pats them each on the head, leaving behind a very big diamond as allowance. “Keep up the good work girls! Now let me go see you parents.”

“Thank you!” they said together again, squealing in delight as they weight the heavy diamonds on their palms. One of those is worth at least a few shopping sprees. 

Phichit hides behind Yuuri as they enter through the shadow pit into the library where Yuuko and Takeshi seem to be arguing over where a particular file should be places. When they spot Yuuri, they drop the file on the table: “Yuuri,” Yuuko greets him, “What brings you around?”

Takeshi looks nervous, “Is it because of the thing with the Erinyes?”

“What is this _thing_ with the Erinyes?” Phichit asks, always slightly panicked to be in that particular area of the Underworld. Phichit was the God of Death. Death itself was natural and relatively neutral. Everyone had to die eventually. But what happened afterwards was wholly outside of his control, and entirely in Yuuri’s domain. The fate of the dead was messy, nowhere near as neutral or tranquil as the act of dying, and it seemed to send him into the very pits of despair. It was entirely normal and important: Yuuri had no need for Thanatos to interfere in the judgement of human souls, only to collect them and dump their souls into the care of Hermes for the ride. Phichit was much too sensitive when it came to humans. “I must know. Did they eat him? Drag him? What? What?! Please tell me it wasn’t the little old man I brought in here! Please!”

Yuuri shakes his head, clasping Phichit on the shoulder: “He really does not want to know. He really cannot handle knowing. Phichit, just stick to killing them. Onto business, I am in need of a lawyer.”

Yuuko and Takeshi stare at each other.

“I have an asylum case on my hands,” Yuuri explains, reaching for the scroll between his two friends to read the contents. He hums to himself and Phichit tries to read over his shoulder. “I’ll take this one.”

Yuuko preens, looking smug as she tells her husband, “Told you.”

“An asylum case, here?” Takeshi wipes his hands on his pants, “who is it?”

“Demeter’s child,” Yuuri avoids making eye contact with them, slipping the scroll into the inner lining of his cape. There, it disappears into the void of darkness, deep as night. “He’s asked for asylum. And I have chosen to consider it. So, as you both know, that means Zeus, Poseidon, and I will have to discuss it, and I can almost guarantee Demeter will come to bare her complaints.”

“Yuuko would be the best of us to do it,” Takeshi stated, almost uncomfortable.

Yuuko’s cheeks grew a soft shade of pink, “M—me?”

“You don’t have to win. You just have to try,” Yuuri tried to sound detached, but it was difficult with Viktor’s fate on the line.

“Why would he need a trial for asylum?” a little voice interrupted them all from the door. Yuuri turned to find his most beloved niece, Loop, staring at him with the depth of knowledge given to her since birth by the very nature of her name. Loop could see the eternity of life and death in one look. Perhaps because of her uncanny position in the natural order, she could recognize another in the same situation. Her eyes glowed a light, pale blue, the same shade as the flame inside her mother’s lantern. “He has a shadow, doesn’t he?”

Yuuri considers this momentarily, “I’m not sure I follow.”

Phichit snaps his fingers then, grinning to himself: “He has a shadow. Kore is not just Kore. Kore is also Persephone! Brilliant little gothic doll! That’s great. We just tell Zeus that Viktor is choosing to live in the Underworld as per the privileges granted to him by his shadow! The shadow speaks Underworld tongues!”

Yuuko claps her hands together, “Oh, I see! He doesn’t need asylum because he’s not just of Olympus. He has an Underworld name. He has dual residency! And with dual residency comes the perks of—”

“Moving between two worlds,” Phichit nods. “Yuuri, you don’t need Zeus or Demeter to approve of Viktor’s request to live here. He only needs you to recognize his rights as an Underworld god! And he’s already employed, so it’s all set!”

“That should be easy enough to stress to Zeus,” Yuuko nods. “It’d be just like Hermes, only in reverse. Viktor might be able to visit Olympus and live there for a short time, but he wants his primary residence to be here.”

Loop’s eyes return to their normal color: “But it won’t be. Because Kore is not needed in the Underworld, only in the world above. Persephone, on the other hand, would be needed in the Underworld, but not in Olympus. A god can have many jobs, but not many names at once. How will they be worshipped? How will they survive?”

 _You will destroy your intended so that they may be reborn a new for the balance of the Underworld and Olympus_.

For years, Yuuri had assumed that meant to become his consort, but reconsidering the words, nothing assured him Viktor would become his consort. An intended could be just that, a vanishing wish of the fates, like a fleeting kiss of destiny. His gloved hand squeaks as he fists his palm.

“Like I said, he’ll have to partition his time between the two realms,” Yuuko explains softly. “It doesn’t sound difficult. You could request for a minimal amount of time in Olympus.”

“Except the moment Viktor returns to the world above for any amount of time, his mother will take advantage that he’s unsupervised to lock him up. That’s why he wants to stay here in the first place. It’s why he asked me to protect him.”

Phichit nods, “so, then, Zeus can watch over him?”

“Until his fleeting attention falls to something else,” Yuuri sighs, “Loop is correct. Without a role for Persephone, there is no reason for Kore to come to the Underworld. His name would have to change; he would need to become an Underworld god.”

“Okay, so back to asylum?” Phichit offers.

“He doesn’t qualify,” Takeshi points out. “He has a right to be here for as long as he would like, but we cannot be responsible for what happens to Kore as a result of it. If the humans stop worshipping a god that never responds, then he’ll just die.”

“And then he’s still here, which is what he wants,” Phichit points out.

Yuuri shakes his head, “That’s not how dying works for a god. Immortality is eternal. The opposite of immortality isn’t the death you recognize for humans. It’s different. If immortality is connected to being remembered, in being forgotten you simply vanish.”

Loop nods, running to hug her uncle by the waist. Yuuri gives her a gentle squeeze.

“What if you married him?” Loop asks meekly.

Yuuri considers her words carefully. The rites of marriage are only slightly less complicated than asylum. Although Zeus had given his blessing to Aphrodite, Yuuri wouldn’t put it past him to take it back when confronted with Demeter’s tantrum. She would surely swallow the earth in her rage. Even then, Yuuri didn’t need Zeus’ permission to marry, but he did need Hera’s approval. As the Goddess of Marriage, she performed and oversaw the rites of marriage that solidified a union through all three realms. Hera was unlikely to fight Zeus’ wishes—if they had changed. It wasn’t safe to find out, either.

“Hera would probably not help me, little one,” Yuuri explains.

Phichit considers Yuuri’s words carefully, “I mean, yeah, Hera probably wouldn’t help you, but Hestia Goddess of Family, Home, and State would. She’s your sister, Yuuri. She’d do anything for you.”

**TBC**


	9. Part X

**X. Persephone**

Yuuri returns to his office with his heart hammering against his chest. He presses his back against the door, watching from afar as Viktor’s form continues to remain perfectly still with lips suspended in mid-sentence and hair like a veil.

“You’re a king,” Yuuri reminds himself, trying to give himself a pep talk, “and he’s a subject. Half a subject. The shadow is a subject. And he needs your help, so as a king, you must do what is just, even if it is very difficult for you.”

It’s easier to talk to himself honestly without anyone else conscious enough to hear him. But the reality of what he _must_ do stares him defiantly in the face with the knowing clarity of his own desires reflected back in mock grin. Yuuri _wants_ Viktor in a way he has never wanted anything before—in a way that betrays his controlled, aloof exterior and peels him apart to show a throbbing, lonely heart too afraid of the light standing in front of him. If the only way he can be of use to Viktor is by playing the villain to his mother’s protracted fairytale of forced purity and piety, then so be it. But the choice must still be made by Viktor. Yuuri will not do anything against Viktor’s wishes. He’s already done enough bringing him down to the underworld.

He takes slow, steady steps to stand before Viktor. When he leans against his desk, he reaches forward to touch Viktor’s face, who, as if drowning, takes in a deep and sudden breath that sends time reeling forward so fast that even Yuuri feels nauseous.

“Hi,” Yuuri gives him a small, unsure smile. “Are you feeling alright?”

“W—what did you do?” Viktor says, still shaky until he realizes Yuuri’s palm is on his cheek to steady him.

“I didn’t do anything. You’re the one that did this by asking for asylum, but, listen, we don’t have much time. Kore, God of Growing Things, you have requested asylum in the Kingdom of Hades. After consultation with my legal team, I’m afraid we will be unable to offer you asylum, but we believe there might another, perhaps less preferable solution,” Yuuri steels himself for rejection. He barely notices when they both start floating off the ground. Kore’s hair billows slightly. “Kore, you are by the gift of birth a God of Olympus, but by the gift of this shadow, you seem to belong to the Underworld as well.”

Viktor’s eyes flitter for a minute, as if recognizing for the first time that the items in the room have lost all signs of gravity, “Yuuri, something is happening.”

“Viktor, keep your eyes on me,” Yuuri tells him, reaching with his other hand to sandwich his face between both his palms. Viktor’s blue eyes snap back to attention, so obedient and eager to please. His hair tickles Yuuri’s skin as it floats like a veil. A sound like a thousand storms billows inside the room, and Yuuri can barely hear himself: “Viktor, will you—”

Viktor’s ears hum with the sound of wind slapping against skin and clothing, and he struggles to hear Yuuri’s words, even as he knows in his heart that the answer to anything Yuuri will ever ask will forever be a _yes,_ but he strains and stretches to listen,“—will I…? Yuuri, I would do anything for you!”

“—it’s entirely your choice!”

Yuuri groans when he sees Viktor fading like light between his fingers. It’s an all-consuming light that thrums against Yuuri’s skin as it eats away at him as well, and he grunts out his complaint, “Oh, come on! He was _already_ denied asylum!” – just at the same time as they both disappear to the sound of loud, roaring thunder.

.

Viktor returns to immediate consciousness again and realizes Yuuri is no longer with him. He’s dressed in blinding white tunics, his hair loose against his back, and a crown of flowers and pearls around his temple. When he looks up, he smiles: “Father!”

“Viktor,” Yakov huffs gruffly, “What mischief have you been getting into? – Not that you need to tell me. I already know. Poseidon, is that you?—Did we not settle that we would _not_ bring our spouses to these hearings, Jean?”

“Isabella follows her king everywhere. I don’t think that should change just because Hades is chronically _single_ ,” Jean-Jacques chuckles, taking the empty seat at Zeus’ left. Viktor realized then there were three thrones in front of him, not just one.

Viktor squirms, unsure of why he is there for an audience with the Lords of the Three Realms. His hands fidget even more when he spots Poseidon giving him a wink: Viktor had never liked J.J., considering him pretentious and annoying, and perfectly suited to being under the seas – far away from the land and flowers Viktor so lovingly nurtured. J.J. was, indeed, suited to his role, though. As the God of the Seas, Storms, and Earthquakes, he was the perfect combination of necessary, yet annoying, and that was exactly the vision Viktor had of him.

“Where’s Yuuri?” Viktor asks at last, eyeing the two kings.

As if blossoming from his very words, Yuuri appears from behind him dressed regally in his royal clothes. Unlike the Olympians, his were only slightly more modern, with the long train of his cape billowing behind him. Viktor’s eyes drink in the sight hungrily, down to the silver spikes pointing out from Yuuri’s shoulders and the crown of steel darts floating above his head. He gave Zeus a curt nod before turning his attention to J.J.

“You’re in my seat,” he says, voice firm. “Move.”

“I don’t see why I should. Your name wasn’t on it,” Poseidon smirks, puffing out his chest in an obvious show of power for his wife. Isabella swoons a little, but she makes sure to stay in a far corner as unobtrusively as possible. Zeus doesn’t seem to find this unobtrusive enough as he waves his right hand and she disappears. 

“Should I make you move, then?” Yuuri grins.

“Big words for a powerless man in Olympus,” Poseidon barks, upset that his only audience has gone. “Go sit over there like a good boy.”

Yuuri smirks, hip cocked as he says, “Who says I’m powerless, or that I need my powers to move you? Now that Amphitrite is gone, perhaps I ought to school you on how to respect your elders—”

“Stop bickering like toddlers,” Zeus rumbles, “J.J., move to my right and let Yuuri have his seat. I don’t understand why it’s like this _every_ time you’re together.”

“Fine,” J.J. scoffs, “I’ll be the bigger man, seeing as poor Hades only has his seat. And his hand, after all.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, turning to glare at Zeus, “I cannot believe you called a meeting. I had _everything_ under control. As always. His asylum was _denied_.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Zeus sighs, “But I’ve been dealing with uncontrollable circumstances of my own, all as a result of this little god, and I fear that if you want him for yourself, you’ll have to argue your case.”

J.J. snorts, sitting up, “Hades _and_ Kore? That’s laughable! Demeter is going to lose her mind when she gets here.” 

Viktor clears his throat then, stepping forward. He wrings his robes with his hands, “E—excuse me, Sirs, why am I here?”

“You’re here because you asked for asylum, Viktor; it’s tradition,” Yuuri explains softly, feeling helpless as he watches Viktor squirm in place. He wishes he could bring Viktor to rest on his lap and explain gently the process to come. “If I am to argue my case, I should have been allowed to bring my lawyers,” Yuuri reminds Zeus, fist resting over his chin. “Although I don’t think I have much of a case to make. It’s perfectly within Kore’s right to choose to live in the Underworld, should he choose. I simply give blanket permission.”

“Wait, you’re serious,” J.J. balks, turning to look at Viktor. “Kore, you _want_ to live in the land of darkness and death? B—but you’re the embodiment of life itself! Growth! Agriculture! Fertility! Flowers! If you seek freedom so badly, come live with me. We’re a way more awesome place. And I’m there.”

Yuuri glared at J.J. with such offense that Viktor couldn’t help feeling amused.

“No, thank you. I would like to stay with Yuuri, please.”

Viktor might be intimidated by Yuuri and slightly weary of Yakov, but he is never afraid of Poseidon. He steps forward, pushing golden strands of hair over his shoulder. Now, back in Olympus, his hair has immediately taken to the gifts of the sun and shines with an intensity more akin to spun gold than silver. Yuuri can’t deny it is incredibly attractive. Kore is in his element, a son of Zeus and Demeter—and a beauty unparalleled on his own. Yuuri has to curse his heart to stay still as it beats a wild drum in his ears.

“I want to stay in the Realm of Hades.”

Demeter’s voice rings through the hall: “No!” – and startled, Poseidon makes the ground shake.

Zeus rubs at his temples, looking exhausted as he whispers to Yuuri, “And there’s my unreasonable circumstances.”

Unreasonable is too light a phrase, but Yuuri nods and rubs his left ear, “I understand now.”

Yuuri had been expecting Demeter, but had certainly not expected a trial or a vote—not with Viktor’s asylum denied already. But this made sense: Zeus had heard Yuuri’s marriage proposal, even if Viktor had not, perhaps on purpose. But if Yuuri was not there to play judge, then would he have to convince both Zeus and Poseidon? Perhaps, then, Demeter? Yuuri’s hands grow clammy at the thought.

Demeter lands as a large, intimidating crane, but when she spots her child, she transforms back and reaches for him with desperate arms to press him against her bosom. Viktor smiles, letting her dote on him with sprinkled tender affirmations of his own that he is fine. Viktor doesn’t despise his mother. He loves her, surely, but also understands that his fate is uncertain after his disappearance. His mother will never let him out of her sight again, which likely meant no more Yuuri.

“Well, now that we are all here, I supposed we may commence,” Yakov says at last. “Hades, you may take the floor.”

Demeter stands tall, holding tight to her son’s hand. She says magnanimously, “There is no need for apology, Hades. I have Kore back and all is right as it should be. I see he has been well-taken care of, despite Aphrodite’s prank—”

“Aphrodite told you?” Yuuri is surprised.

“Oh yes, we came to an understanding, and given what could have befallen my Kore—Aphrodite is _very_ chatty—I can see you treated him respectfully and well, enough that he would want to stay longer. But I also managed to make it in time to hear you’d made the _right_ choice and denied his asylum, so I see no reason to prolong this charade and not let bygones be bygones. Do you not agree, Hades?”

Viktor looks devastated: “Is that true? You denied my asylum, Yuuri?”

“What manners, Kore. We do not disrespect the Lord of a Realm by speaking so informally,” Demeter chastises, but there’s no bite to her tone as she begins to reach for Viktor’s hair to braid it. “Now, say your thanks and goodbyes and we can go home.”

“If he denied the asylum then why are we even here?” Poseidon huffs. He leans closer to Zeus, beginning his grievance, “I canceled a perfectly good party for this. I was singing lead for the band.”

“Is it true, Yuuri?” Viktor tries again.

“Viktor, I only denied your asylum request because—”

“Before you respond,” Demeter says, eyes alight with amusement, “you might want to watch your words carefully, Hades, lest secrets that should not be revealed come to the light.” 

Yuuri sits up, eyes beginning to glow a deep maroon, “Are you threatening me, Demeter?”

“Goodness, I would never. Just a friendly warning between old friends.”

Zeus stands, “That is _enough_! You both come with me. Poseidon, make sure Kore stays here.”

Viktor pouts, “like there’s anywhere for me to go.”

“Now!” Zeus roars, vanishing with Demeter and Hades at the clap of his hands.

.

Zeus paces the room as Yuuri and Lilia stare at each other from across the room. This is supposed to be mediation, but there’s nothing Yuuri is willing to bargain, and Lilia appears to feel the exact same way. In the silence, Yuuri wonders if Lilia is bluffing; after all, Aphrodite had been loyal for years, but Lilia’s leverage was always dangerous due to its concealed menace. It was always easy to forget that Lilia was in the trade of life and death. She was not only the Goddess of the Harvest, but also of Sacred Law, and her brand of justice was often cruel and prolonged.

“I want to know what both of you know, now,” Zeus says, voice even-killed, even as the clouds beneath their feet feel heavy with the charged electricity of thunder. “Lilia, you will go first.”

“Hades should go first. He doesn’t know anything, so it should be fast.”

Yuuri pushes away from the wall behind him, “If that is true, then the only one in need of sharing is Demeter.”

“I do not have time for this,” Zeus groans. “Then both of you at once. On my count.”

“Upon your word you will speak, trickster?”

Yuuri blanches at the accusation: “Upon my word if you give your word.”

“I give,” Lilia huffs.

“Then, on Zeus’ count,” Yuuri nods.

Zeus counts back slowly from three, waiting anxiously as the two other gods stare each other down. Demeter speaks so fast that Yuuri has time to catch the first line and stop immediately when he realizes that Demeter has nothing on him. _Aphrodite, old friend, I am sorry I doubted your honor_ , Yuuri thinks to himself, feeling almost triumphant. Granted, Lilia’s _truth_ was certainly more pejorative without the full knowledge of Aphrodite’s blackmail, yet Yuuri was fine with it.

“Hades and Aphrodite are lovers, and he abducted my Kore as a prank because of Aphrodite’s insecurities.”

“Kore is my intended.” 

Lilia balked at Yuuri’s _truth_ , eyes burrowing deep into him: “How did you find out?”

“Pomegranate trees,” Yuuri explains, “they’re blooming.”

Zeus looks interested then: “Then the prophecy—”

“Impossible,” Lilia laughs. “He lies. Nothing can grow in that barren wasteland you call a home, Hades.”

Zeus considers the information presented, and sighs, “Well, if that is all, then, I suppose we can return now.”

“Wait!” Lilia implores, “He must not tell Kore.”

Yuuri smirks, crossing his arms, “Fine, so long as Lilia does not share her bit of knowledge. If we both agree to proceed with the trial without these two pieces of evidence presented, then—”

“That is not fair. It is not the same,” Lilia argues to Zeus.

Zeus raises his hand in protest, “Is what Lilia says true?”

“Only partially,” Yuuri shrugs, “Aphrodite and I are not lovers _anymore_. Not for a long time. But I did go along with the prank, and I accept the fault for it.”

“Then, we will go by your words that neither of these two truths, be one partial, will be shared with Kore during this trial.”

“Ever!” Demeter shrieks, “he must not say, ever!”

Yuuri looks at Zeus, whose tired and haggard face appear to be at an impasse. There is very little that, having come to know and love Kore, Yuuri would not do for Viktor’s happiness, even if it might mean risking his own. There is no reason for Viktor to _know_ of his fate, not so long as he is free from Demeter: “A half truth is not as powerful as a whole truth, purposely concealed through years of manipulation,” he reminds her, eyes glinted as he walks past her. “But let it not be said that Hades is nothing but magnanimous. I will not tell Kore.”

 _There’s nothing in my promise that says Kore can’t find out on his own,_ a small voice whispers proud in Yuuri’s head. But he ignores it.

Zeus nods, “then it is agreed.”

With another clap of his hands, they return.

.

Poseidon draws another card, furrowing his brows as he considers his hand again. Viktor sits cross-legged on the floor, amused as he lays down his cards again and wins for the third time. J.J. curses silently, taking the full deck. “This time, I deal,” he glares at Viktor, as if he might have cheated in some way—even when J.J. has been dealing more times than Viktor. “So, tell me, why are you so interested in going down under for eternity? Your life is pretty nice up here.”

“My life is nicer with Yuuri in it,” Viktor whispers, uncertain about why he is sharing this with Poseidon. “But I suppose he doesn’t have much need for someone like me coming into his life and causing more problems for him.”

Poseidon nods, shuffling the cards, “I see. You’re in love.” 

“Love is for humans,” Viktor blushes furiously.

“Destiny for the Gods,” J.J. agrees, “I suppose you can give it different names, but ultimately it all boils down to the same feeling, doesn’t it? Although, you are aware that Yuuri is alone for a _reason_ , right? – It’s not like he’s not a handsome god. Sure, his realm is stuck underground with no natural sunlight or flowers—”

“I could make him flowers. Do you think he’d like flowers?” Viktor muses, and his shadow comes out from hiding behind his neck to perch on his shoulder.

“Who knows what that guy likes. The rumors are wild enough, who knows how much worst the truth might be. Oh, hey little dude. I’ve never seen your shadow up close.”

Viktor inches closer, but keeps a protective hand over his shadow: “What do you mean?”

J.J. shrugs, “I don’t even know what I mean to do telling a _maiden_ god about the potential proclivities of an underworld god. Ignore me. But know this, Yuuri isn’t alone because he lacks opportunity. He is alone by choice, because he’s waiting for someone.”

“Waiting for who?”

Kore doesn’t want to admit that what he feels might be jealousy. But there’s something hot and heavy that sits on his heart and won’t let him breathe. It’s not anything like the feeling of comfort he feels when he sees Yuuri in the mornings. It’s something different, ugly, screaming and clawing at his chest.

“For his intended, of course,” J.J. explains as he deals the cards. “God knows when his intended is coming, though. It’s been decades. Seriously, decades.”

Viktor’s shadow chirps next to his ear, trying to sneak between his knuckles, but Viktor only squishes it down further.

.

Poseidon runs back to his throne when he hears thunder. With Zeus and the group back, Viktor feels like his fate might be sealed—and it might involve returning to the human realm forever. _He doesn’t want you_ , he images his shadow chirps, _he’s got someone else he’s waiting for!_ – but he ignores the sounds. When Yuuri and Viktor lock eyes, Viktor is the first one to look away. He needs this to be over already so he can go home and lick his wounds in private: _He has someone_ , the voice reminds him again. _He can’t be yours, not when you can’t even accept a gift, much less wedding rites._

“Alright, so, what’s been decided?” Posiedon asks, fixing the golden crown on his head.

“Nothing as yet. Hera is late.”

“Why would we need Hera?” Demeter asks, pushing Viktor to stand behind her.

“Because she is our judge today. Marriage between gods is Hera’s prerogative,” Zeus explains, turning to Yuuri with a wink.

Yuuri chokes on his own tongue then, looking flabbergasted.

Viktor blinks rapidly. He whispers, almost breathless, “marriage? But I thought Yuuri said this was about my asylum, which was denied.”

“I only denied the asylum because Viktor has a shadow. He has rights in the underworld and may choose to reside there for as long as he wishes; asylum is not required,” Yuuri tries to explain quickly, tripping over his own words.

Hera appears then as a shower of blinding golden light. She stands between them all with a stern look on her face before she turns slowly towards Hades: “Are you taking back your proposal, Yuuri? A proposal without consultation I can always forgive, but an erroneous proposal, now that would hurt me deeply as the Goddess of Marriage.”

Demeter screeches, almost faint, “Proposal?”

“Yuuri’s never proposed to me, Mama, relax.”

“Oh, but he did!” Hera clasps her hands together. When she notices Viktor’s dejected face, she extends out a hand for Viktor to take. When Viktor doesn’t move, she turns to Yuuri, “Give me a hand here? This is truly the saddest of matches, despite perhaps being so ingenious, not even I had thought of it! – Until now!”

“Of course, it was ingenious. I approved the courtship,” Zeus coughs into his fist.

Demeter gasps, “You traitor! You sold off our child!”

Yuuri groans into his palms. Watching Yuuri so dejected makes Viktor feel the onslaught of guilt like a storm lashing his back. It’s his fault Yuuri is in this predicament now. The least he can do is fix it, even if he feels like he might throw up.

“I—I can’t take wedding rites,” Viktor panics, showing them all the brand on his arm. “This is my fate, remember?”

Yuuri stands then, “That is—Viktor, I’m so sorry. When I couldn’t accept your asylum, I tried to come up with ways to make you stay. I didn’t imagine this would happen. You probably couldn’t hear me, but I did propose to you. I am so sorry.”

Viktor feels his knees buckle. Immense happiness fills his chest to the point where he can’t even breathe.

“And so we have our first piece of evidence!” Hera nods, clapping her hands again, “What do you say, little god?”

“But you’re waiting for someone,” Viktor says. Immediately, fat tears roll down his cheeks. “I know you’re trying to help me, but that’s not fair to you. J.J. said you’re waiting for your intended.”

Demeter nods, dropping to the ground to hug her son, “Yes, my darling, of course. And we would not want to impose upon Hades, would we? The best thing to do is return home for a while and, after some months, we can consider together another place more suitable for you.”

Zeus glares at Poseidon, who cowers in his seat: “How was I supposed to know I was putting my foot in my mouth if none of you tell me anything?”

“Precisely because you can’t stop talking for one second!” Yuuri bits his bottom lip until it bleeds. “My intended isn’t coming.”

 _Because you’re already here_. He knows he can’t say it. It would risk too much.

Viktor stops crying with a sudden hiccup. Big, blue eyes, hopeful and incredulous, stare back at Yuuri as if he has just handed him the moon. Viktor crawls away from his mother, legs weak from his first tumble, and the sight of Viktor on his knees makes something croon inside Yuuri’s heart. Yuuri stands from his throne, trotting down the flight of stairs to kneel on the ground and brush away Viktor’s tears with his thumbs: “Stop crying. Let me help you.”

He doesn’t realize or intends to say it as a command, but that is what comes out of his mouth.

Hera clears her throat, tapping her foot against the ground, “So, what’s it going to be? Are we making a match or not?”

“Are you allowing it, Hera?” Viktor whispers, almost worshipful.

It’s certainly the way to Hera’s heart, that and making Demeter angry. She pushes her chest out, “I am!”

Viktor licks his lips, “Why is your intended not coming?”

“I can’t tell you,” Yuuri whispers, “but you have to trust me. It’s okay, Viktor. Let’s get married.”

“I do trust you, but what if they come? What if they do show up?”

Yuuri sighs, “You don’t have to worry about me leaving you. Not ever.”

Viktor’s shadow chirps, and Yuuri laughs.

“What did it say?” Viktor sniffles.

“What do you say?” Yuuri grins.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Yuuri,” Viktor nods, throwing his arms around Yuuri’s neck.

Demeter stands, “I will not permit it! Oh, Zeus, if you think you’ve seen the worst of me, you have yet to see what is coming now! The world will mourn with me!”

“Mother,” Viktor whimpers, crawling onto Yuuri’s lap for safety. “Stop. Will you destroy everything and everyone, until not even the gods are left? Until even I am gone? For what? Can’t you see, my love for you is not threatened by my freedom and happiness? Can you not appreciate Yuuri for how wonderful he is being to me, to give up his own destiny and happiness to help me unleash my own?”

“Your freedom is my abandonment,” Lilia cries. “And your destruction. Years of protecting you only so that _death_ would still take you from me. What use is immortality and power if destiny still strings us and pulls us with her claws like stringed puppets? If my only child, my most beloved treasure, must die, then we will all die as well.”

“Mother, I’m not going to die. I’m just going to marry Yuuri and live with him forever, but you can still visit me.”

Yuuri clears his throat, playing with the end of Viktor’s braid out of nerves, “Actually, that is something we’d need to discuss. The _not_ dying thing.”

Everyone turns to face him then.

“What do you mean?” Viktor whispers. “Yuuri?”

“Well, until we figure out why you have two names, or how we switch you to only having one, we probably want to stick to a long engagement,” Yuuri purses his lips, unsure how to raise the matter, “you probably still need to spend some time with your mother, or else you might disappear.”

Demeter sniffled, dabbing at her eyes, "I'd allow _that_." 

Zeus sighs, "Do whatever you want, just stop starving humans."

Viktor’s eyes grow incredibly wide then, “W—what? That’s _why_ you wanted to marry me! Not because you feel anything for me and your intended isn’t coming, but because, if we’re married, I’d _have_ to go back to the Underworld, even if I have to spend time aboveground doing my duties? That's deceitful!”

“I said I was helping you!” Yuuri scoffs, surprised at Viktor’s outburst. No one speaks for a long pause.

Hera notices the uncomfortable silence. She shrugs it off, ever content to make another match as she produces on her palm a glowing golden band, and slips it hard and fast over the two hands of the newly engaged gods. The band glows and then settles on their wrists like cuffs.

Everyone in the room yells in unison: “Hera!”

She simply rolls her eyes, “He said yes. They’ve been blessed. The engagement has been approved. I’m the Goddess of Marriage. You have problems at home, go talk to Hestia. You have problems letting your mother let you get engaged, come to me. See? Resolved and done. Next.”

Viktor and Yuuri stare at the band, watching as Viktor’s shadow slides down his arm to take a peek as well. When Yuuri moves his hand away, a gold chain simply follows as it stretches out from Viktor’s own cuff.

“Huh, it’s never been visible for _that_ long,” Hera tells them, poking the chain, “but no one can break that bond now.”

**TBC**


	10. Part XI

**XI. Hades**

Yuuri is exhausted when he kicks open the door to his house and shuffles inside with a defiant, pouty Viktor in his arms. The God of Growing Things had demanded a bridal carry back to the underworld, feigning exhaustion Yuuri knew was only a ploy to prove the strength of his will and pettiness—and perhaps his anger. While Yuuri might have met such bratty antics with discipline or indifference with anyone else, the gold shackles around each of their wrists made it inconvenient to leave Viktor sitting on the floor of Zeus’ throne room while Yuuri walked away. Instead, Yuuri had hefted his new fiancé in his arms, relishing with a smirk at the surprised, wide gaze Viktor gave him for his efforts and admiring the soft, pink blush that dusted over Viktor’s adorable nose.

The dogs rush to meet them, circling around Yuuri’s legs. Makkachin bumps an insistent snout against the underide of Viktor’s thigh, demanding pats, and it’s obvious Viktor feels conflicted between his interest in staying plastered against Yuuri like an octopus and petting Yuuri’s dog. 

“What about my suitcase?” Viktor asks, arms wrapping tighter around Yuuri as if daring him to set him down.

Now that they’re in Yuuri’s domain, there’s very little he cannot maneuver.

Inhuman levels of strength are no longer impressive here, not when he can easily levitate Viktor at will and does, showing off his skills with pride as he snaps his fingers and watches the bag rolls itself into the house. He smirks. There’s a reason Yuuri is king – and while none of them are related to his bellhop abilities, Viktor’s genuine surprise is a welcome balm for his ego. Viktor gasps; Yuuri can only hope the gasp isn’t indicative of Viktor realizing he could cling to Yuuri’s neck eternally without imposing any challenges on Yuuri’s ability to use his arms. While Yuuri is not keen to admit he wouldn’t mind, the reality would prove impractical.

“You should probably plant your feet on the ground now,” Yuuri tells him, and Viktor nods lamely. Even as he follows instructions, he stays close with his arms around Yuuri’s neck. Indifference isn’t an uncommon tactic for Yuuri, who ignores the hammering of his heart as he says, “I promise we’ll get you an apartment of your own tomorrow.”

This statement seems to surprise Viktor, who watches in amazement as his suitcase continues to roll itself down the living room: “Why would I need an apartment?” – The metal of the chains clink as he unwraps his arms from Yuuri’s neck and settles a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder to slip off his shoes.

Yuuri watches Viktor take a few steps away and refuses to admit he misses the warmth of Viktor’s body. There’s a draft in his home, surely.

“You’re a resident of my realm. You are no longer a captive. It seems only fair you should have your own place, somewhere where you have full autonomy over your life,” Yuuri shrugs, testing how far the chain will continue to stretch if he pulls. It stretches by magic, glowing bright enough to begin attracting shadows from the corners of the room. They cling and the metal of the chain rattles. Viktor’s shadow tries to shoo them away, complaining with loud, obnoxious chirps that demand Yuuri _deal_ with it. “Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own.”

“How cruel, Yuuri,” Viktor pouts. “You didn’t need to be so blunt.”

“I was talking to your shadow.”

Viktor blinks, unbraiding his hair as he walks in the direction of the stairs, “ _Oh_. Well, I don’t need an apartment. I’m just fine here and you have so much room! Besides, you need someone to look after you. Before I started working here, you couldn’t even keep a tidy house.”

“If you insist. All the guest rooms are on the first floor; pick whichever you like,” Yuuri informs him, even as he realizes Viktor is already making his way up the stairs. By now, ringlets of platinum blond hair are cascading down Viktor’s back. It’s impossible to look away. Vicchan sticks close to Yuuri, keen to get his attention, but Makkachin has long left him to trot ahead of Viktor.

“Oh, yes, I’m aware; remember, I cleaned them?” Viktor nods, exaggerating a loud yawn. He fans his eyelashes with such exaggeration that Yuuri struggles not to laugh. “It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stares after him, kneeling down to pick up Vicchan.

He tries again, voice even-keeled as he repeats, “There’s no guest rooms up there, Viktor.”

“Yes, I know, Yuuri. You seem very keen I should know. Don’t worry. I’m very good at organizing, so I’ll take care of making space for my things in your bedroom. Now, are you coming to bed?”

“Maybe in another hour,” Yuuri tells him. It feels like the safest thing to say as he watches Viktor’s robe slide down one of his shoulders, giving a decadent glimpse of soft, porcelain skin. It’s like watching moonlight. Yuuri clears his throat, looking away as Vicchan licks his chin, “You go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

.

Viktor has known this disappointment before. Close to midnight, he realizes the creek of the door is only Vicchan pushing his way into the room, and not Yuuri coming up to bed. The small poodle stretches against the side of the bed, sniffing loudly for Viktor’s attention. Viktor sighs with the heaviness of his heart dipping into his stomach and plucks the small dog up on the bed. “Come up here, too, Makka,” Viktor pats the empty side of the bed, and Makkachin climbs up effortlessly. 

_This is fine_ , he tells himself as he blinks up at the ceiling. Viktor tries to tuck his chin under the covers, _Except it’s not_. There’s so much resistance that permeates the space between Yuuri and him that it leaves Viktor walking blind in a haze of constant confusion. There’s a bracelet around Viktor’s wrist that won’t disappear, with a long, shining gold chain that trails over the bed, down the length of the floor, to the expanse of the stairs, and Viktor itches to follow it and see if he can tempt destiny on the other side. Viktor knows he has no right to ask anything of Yuuri, not when Yuuri has given up so much to give Viktor this definition of freedom—and yet, freedom seems pointless if it doesn’t come with the certainty of Yuuri and Viktor’s open desire.

He looks over at the dogs snoring softly. Viktor sits up, taking the silver comb from the bedside table to brush carefully down the length of his hair. The chain rattles with each movement.

“This is ridiculous; how am I supposed to sleep with this thing making all this sound?” Viktor huffs, setting the comb down brusquely before tiptoeing out of bed to follow the trail of gold leading out of the bedroom. He leans down to pick up the chain as he goes, trying to make sure he doesn’t disturb the dogs.

He ends up back in the first floor, watching Yuuri sleep on the main living room sofa. Viktor walks around the sofa to the nearest armchair and sits down carefully to watch Yuuri sleep. It’s obvious Yuuri hadn’t planned to fall asleep there, not with the book on his chest and his clothing still intact. Viktor smiles softly to himself, gathering his legs up to rest his chin on his knees.

.

Yuuri wakes up to the smell of food and soft, nimble fingers brushing through his hair. When he opens his eyes, he starts at the sight of Viktor leaning over him. Long, platinum blond tresses of hair curtain around him like a shield that force his entire focus onto Yuuri.

“You didn’t come to bed,” Viktor whispers, giving him a smile so gentle that Yuuri almost considers drowning in its comfort.

“I must’ve fallen asleep reading,” he confesses, blinking sleep from his bleary eyes. The book is gone from his chest, replaced by an insistent Vicchan trying to dig his way into Yuuri’s side. Makkachin boofs at him, and Yuuri sits up in a hurry. Viktor isn’t dressed yet, clad in a decadent nightgown that tricks the eye. He veers his gaze away, thinking it sheer, only to discover in the minute movements Viktor makes that it’s only a spell of the imagination.

“Did you wait for me?”

“I did,” Viktor hums, reaching for a plate of scrambled eggs and fruit. He offers Yuuri an apple slice with his fingers.

“But eventually I came looking for you and found you here, and realized you weren’t coming up.”

“You shouldn’t have waited,” Yuuri groans, rubbing a hand over his face. He tries to keep Vicchan from climbing over his chest for food.

Viktor shrugs, “Perhaps. But it’s a hard habit to break; I seem to wait for you very often. You don’t want the apple? I put so much work into breakfast.”

Yuuri leans forward to take the apple into his mouth, reaching all the way to the tip of Viktor’s fingers. He locks eyes with Viktor as he chews, slowly, discerning the way Viktor’s pupils blow up, and feeling the satisfaction of both the sugar on his tongue and the visible sheen of Viktor’s lips.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Yuuri says, voice rough from sleep. When he lifts his wrist to take stock of the time, he groans. “I should walk the dogs and get ready for work.”

“I’ve already pressed a shirt for you,” Viktor tells him, scooping up some eggs with a fork. “And I can take care of the dogs. Relax and enjoy your breakfast, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri’s shoulders relax for a moment as he opens his mouth to let Viktor feed him. _How am I supposed to survive this?_ His brain screams at him, even as he schools his face into something akin to expressionless—or as much as he can muster when his heart is bouncing all over his ribcage just at the sight of Viktor’s nightgown sliding soft and smooth over Yuuri’s thigh.

.

Yuuri can’t complain. Weeks later, he comes home to Viktor reading and drinking tea with the dogs, like a routine he never thought he needed to feel grounded. Often, there’s the smell of dinner wafting throughout the house, enticing Yuuri’s grumbling stomach to a meal and his tense shoulders to relax at the first sight of bright blue eyes eagerly watching him take off his shoes and dump his jacket on the nearest armchair. It’s nice, like something akin to comfort and companionship. Yuuri would be lying if he didn’t admit that it’s helping with his productivity, too. Minako has often acknowledged that Yuuri is spending fewer hours in his office, but more hours focused on work. It'd be easier to explain if he could get himself to admit that when he goes home, he wants his attention on Viktor.

“You’re leaving at five today?” Phichit asks as he pops his head into Yuuri’s office. Yuuri nods, knowing perfectly well that Phichit isn’t interested in his schedule or even his cranky, but handsome assistant outside. Phichit is after Yuuri’s lunch. Again. This is their new normal. 

“If you don’t distract me too much, I think I’ll manage,” Yuuri smirks, keeping his eyes focused on the scroll in front of him.

“You know,” Phichit sits on the edge of his desk, close to the little blue lunchbox, “we scan everything. Even the archvies. You can read those on your computer.”

“I prefer the scrolls,” Yuuri grumbles, eyes hovering over Phichit’s hand as he starts trying to untie the bundle of food to peek inside. “I also prefer not to share my lunch, thank you. Why don’t you ask Seung-Gil if he wants to scavenge some lunch with you, hm?”

“So cold, Yuuri,” Phichit pouts. “I know better than to ask a friend’s ex on a lunch date. That’s against the bro code. And, also, my standards have really taken off since you’ve been parading the picture of domesticity around the office. I need to find myself an Olympian of my own. Oh, maybe I’ll pitch an inter-realm dating app at the next Board of Directors meeting.”

“Where does the bro code stand on stealing homemade lunches?” Yuuri chuckles, reaching over to tap Phichit’s hand with his pen. The chain makes a loud sound against his desk. He makes a concerted effort not to comment on the dating app, or the implication that Viktor has become Yuuri’s stay-at-home god—although domesticity suits Viktor like one of the sheer gowns giving Yuuri a complex. “Here, here, hand it over. If you’re curious, the least you can do is ask me to open it first.”

Outside, Seung-Gil curses, kicking the chain as he steps over it on his way to a filing cabinet. Yuuri grimaces, aware that the chain continues to be an inconvenience. It's too bad not even Hera seems capable of fixing it. 

Phichit rushes to join Yuuri’s side, eyes twinkling as he waits: “What do you think he made you this time?”

Yuuri shrugs, “Does it matter if it’s too adorable to even eat?”

“Speaking of too adorable to eat, did you finally get a taste of Sprin—?”

“Don’t finish that statement or I’ll report you to HR.”

“Fine,” Phichit huffs, but soon forgets about the chiding when his eyes fall on little apple slices cut into the shape of bears today. “Even the fruit is cute. Ugh. He made you a pork cutlet. How does he find the time? – I mean, sure, he’s not really _working_ , but does he just not sleep to cater to you?”

“He sleeps better than me, and he’s definitely working,” Yuuri confesses, sighing. Sharing a bed with Viktor mostly meant Yuuri was the one not sleeping most nights. “Did I tell you he did OTV interviews from my home office the other day? The same day he curled his hair, bathed the dogs, did the laundry, and made us a three-course dinner? And he can’t use his powers here. Well, not intentionally.”

 _He’s amazing_ , his brain supplies, yet the words go unsaid. The reality is that Viktor is constantly impressing Yuuri, _seducing_ Yuuri. 

“The other day, I heard Minako saying something about him identifying an error in your bookkeeping?”

Yuuri nods, “That was embarrassing. He’s surprisingly good at it, though. He keeps tabs of his own finances back in Olympus.”

Phichit reaches for the fork and steals a piece of pork cutlet before Yuuri can make his indignation known, “He’s trying to learn the family business, obviously. I think it’s very sweet.”

“I could have you fired for that,” Yuuri pouts, cradling the little Tupperware close to his chest.

“Worth it!” Phichit beams, “So, when do I get invited to dinner to meet your fiancé, like officially? Actually, reminds me that we haven’t really put out an announcement about it. It’s been a couple of weeks, Yuuri. And don’t give me the _I’ve been busy_ excuse. Lilia stopped her winter massacre a week ago now and our operations have returned to normal.”

Yuuri was quite aware, considering Viktor had a daily phone call with Lilia and, at some point, had almost hinted that his mother wanted to visit and stay for a couple of weeks.

“I haven’t broached the subject,” Yuuri shakes his head, still reeling from the information. “I haven’t even talked to my future mother-in-law since that day in Olympus. Seems like too much of a hassle to make an announcement when things are so precarious for Viktor. Better to leave things as is.”

“And you’re sure that’s what Viktor wants?” Phichit hums, reaching for an apple slice.

“Viktor just wants to live away from his mother’s control. This works fine. He doesn’t need his life complicated by some official announcement, not when we don’t even know how to ensure he can live here permanently as Kore.” Yuuri sighs, “Besides, this is all temporary. Once he feels more comfortable here, he’ll get his own place. It’ll be easier for him now that wiring himself money is an option.”

“Are you sure?” Phichit frowns. He’s staring at something through the glass walls of Yuuri’s office.

“Yup. He just needs some time to relax and read. That’s all,” Yuuri considers reaching for the next scroll, but instead takes the fork from Phichit to begin eating his lunch. “This is just a means to an end.”

“Okay, but have you asked him about it? Because I somehow don’t think _this_ is all a means to the end you have in mind. I mean, I think it is a means for him to end up with _you_ , but you seem to be in serious denial about it, which surprises me, seeing as he’s your, _you know_.”

“I really wish I hadn’t told you about all that,” he chews pensively. “You really can’t let it slip, Phichit. You think Lilia has been appeased for good? – Won’t be for long if Viktor finds out the truth. This is easier for everyone.” 

Phichit nods, “Uh-huh. Well, you might also want to stop talking about it now, then. I think Viktor finally figured out the public transportation system, or bought himself a car because he’s right outside your office.”

Yuuri swallows hard, “Wait, what?”

Viktor gives Yuuri his most alluring and disarming smile as he waves from the other side of his receptionist’s desk. Seung-Gil looks even more annoyed than usual as he points at Phichit and probably lies about Yuuri being in some kind of meeting.

“Okay, so I’ll leave you to your fiancé,” Phichit squeals. “Later, Yuuri!”

“No, no, Phichit, Phichit! Come back here and eat this lunch!”

“While that sounds so tempting, this is for your own good, so I’m going to give up my impromptu lunch meeting in the name of love. Don’t forget that your office is all glass, Yuuri. Oh, are you Viktor? I’m Thanatos, but call me Phichit. I’m all done with him so go right in.”

“Oh, thank you,” Viktor says, ignoring Seung-Gil already.

“Excuse you, I’m the assistant here,” Seung-Gil scoffs in disgust and Yuuri relaxes momentarily.

“And that’s the _fiancé_ ,” Phichit pokes Seung-Gil’s cheek, pushing him back down on his chair and then proceeding to usher Viktor inside. “Go on. Just remember: It’s _all_ glass.” 

.

The door closes behind Viktor, who stands in front of it awkwardly: “No kidding, it really is all glass. I don't think I registered that last time I was here. Guess I don’t have to worry about what you get up to in here, Yuuri. You really can’t get away with anything in here.”

Yuuri almost chokes at Viktor’s comment. He reaches for his tea mug, swallowing down large gulps of water to ease the itch in his throat. When he looks up, Viktor is already taking a seat in front of his desk, looking like the perfect picture of modern elegance in a light gray suit. His shadow takes advantage of the gold chain still visible between them to crawl over to Yuuri and nuzzle his cheek. Considering all the inconveniences of Hera’s mix-up, this is actually a wonderful development.

“W-what are you doing here?” he coughs into his arm.

Viktor seems only slightly affronted by Yuuri’s question, “I was over at HR talking to Minako. She said I could explore if I wanted to and since _this_ makes it easy to always find you, I figured I’d come see you. It’s noon, so I didn’t think you’d be busy. I thought maybe we could enjoy lunch together. Now that we confirmed I can eat the food here, I thought it’d be nice. Did I interrupt something?”

“Phichit’s just a friend,” Yuuri says immediately. The shadow chirps questioningly, and Yuuri has to agree with the shadow. Yuuri _is_ acting weird. The longer he spends around Viktor, the more difficult it becomes to retain his _cool_ and _in control_ façade, not with the way his body seems to react so strongly to the sight of Viktor’s bright eyes and plump bottom lip, and now the way his blazer tapers at his waist. “He comes by all the time. You didn’t interrupt anything other than me being interrupted from finishing work.”

He nods at the scrolls on his desk.

Viktor peers curiously and takes a scroll in his hand to open it.

“Oh, it’s—”

“Human accounting. Boring stuff, I know,” Yuuri purses his lips. “Looks like just symbols to you, huh?”

“No, it’s fascinating,” Viktor admits softly.

Yuuri frowns, leaning forward, “Wait, Viktor, can you _read_ that?”

Viktor nods, laughing softly, “Of course. I’m an avid reader, Yuuri. I know models have a reputation for being airheads, but I was a very good student—”

“—No, I didn’t mean it because of that,” Yuuri backtracks. “I meant because _that_ scroll right there is ancient underworld text. Not even most underworld residents can read it. This one is, in fact, so old, that only I can read it now. Perhaps Minako could if she tried, but it would take her considerable work. That’s why it was sent to me. It’s more efficient this way.”

Viktor looks surprised, cheeks red, “Oh my gods, you must think I’m a liar. I swear to you it looks just like normal script to me, Yuuri. Maybe this one isn’t written in ancient underworld speech?” – He tries to hand the scroll back, and Yuuri’s takes it. Viktor’s shadow takes advantage of their proximity and the chain’s reduction to jump back to his owner.

Yuuri looks over the text scroll again, recognizing the same symbols as usual. He hands it back, “Read it to me.”

Viktor blinks, looking nervous, “But you just said, Yuuri.”

“Read it to me, Viktor.”

Viktor nods, focusing his attention on it. The shadow peers close as if focused on the scroll as well, and the chirps let Yuuri know that Viktor’s shadow understands. What Yuuri needs to know is if Viktor also understands.

“It all starts as it should, in the beginning, with a birth at night,” Viktor’s voice shakes, but he continues, enunciating clearly and slowly, and Yuuri realizes he isn’t translating. He’s reading. And Yuuri feels breathless, as if before the knowledge of Viktor’s role as his intended felt unreal and undefined. Now, it is clear and real beyond the expanses of the logical and imaginable.

“Stop,” Yuuri says, stretching out a hand for the scroll back. Viktor returns it with a shaky hand. “So, you can read ancient underworld text now, and you seem to understand it, but you can’t understand your own shadow?”

“To be fair, I’d never tried reading ancient texts before, so who knows how long I’ve been able to do _that_ ,” Viktor pouts. “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” Yuuri shakes his head. “I’m just confused by you. But this is a nice surprise, Viktor.”

Viktor gives Yuuri a tentative smile, “And just think how useful it’ll be for your assistant to be able to read ancient underworld texts.”

“Seung-Gil can’t read it, Viktor. I just told you—”

“I meant me. When I’m your assistant. You can just give them to me and I can translate them or take notes for you.”

“Wait, what?”

"Oh, I was so worried I was going to be nearly useless for you, but this is woderful!" Viktor looks thrilled as he leans forward on Yuuri’s desk and says, “Starting next week, I’ll be your new assistant! I’ll take care of all your appointments. It’s going to be great! Just think of all the time we can spend together now! I can even put together our engagement announcement. And don't you even worry about the dogs. With both of us working here, we can bring them to work.”

**TBC**


End file.
